


Ba Sing Se

by nonsensic



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Bending (Avatar TV), Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - The Fire Nation Won, F/F, F/M, Genocide, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Swearing, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:55:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 45,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25708534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonsensic/pseuds/nonsensic
Summary: The Original Six Fight to Win Back the Earth Kingdom From Azula.I wrote a fic about the Gaang living separate (at first) lives in a modern, Fire Nation occupied Ba Sing Se. They are the only people in the world with supernatural abilities. Zuko and Azula are the new Firelords of the Earth ‘Colony’; Katara and Sokka are secret refugees after their Tribes are wiped out; Suki is in hiding after the Kyoshi Warriors lose to the Fire Nation at the Walls of Ba Sing Se; Toph is living her best underground life; Aang is an adopted trainee to the Air Nomads- a charity organisation of monks who help those in need and organise relief missions during the war- in the City Headquarters and he just discovered his new found and very unstable control over air and wind. Some other players include the Kyoshi Warriors, Freedom Fighters (and possibly White Lotus later on).
Relationships: Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 31





	1. Chapter 1: Zuko

**Author's Note:**

> I've never posted my work before. It's pretty long and I'll definitely be posting more chapters whenever I can. There's basically 0 action in the first half since it's all Zuko living his best rich kid life but once Katara comes in everything gets pretty quick paced if that's what you're more interested in.

#  Chapter 1

##  Zuko

One limousine; black, tinted, ballistics protection, three armed guards per passenger. Two armoured escort vehicles; black, tinted, ballistics protection, one driver, four armed guards. One in front, the other behind. Eight escort motorbikes; Four in the back, four in front, black, high speed, one armed driver per. 

Every day. Every trip. Every time. Neither was it anything new. The convoy was the same back home with all ten vehicles and twenty guards at any waking moment. But it was different. There, the guards were present only to promote royal power. It was mostly just symbolic or to keep loving commoners away from the elite. There was no risk of attack, only disturbance. Here, the tension was breathing down the neck of everyone in sight. It was painfully obvious that Zuko and Azula were not escorted to prevent disruptions. Here, anything could happen at any moment. 

In Ba Sing Se, color was just as important as it was in the Fire Nation. Red was power, order, lust and rage. It meant you were alive, it meant you were breathing. It was the flush in your cheeks and the fire in your eyes. Here, it was the mark of blood spilt. It was a reminder of all those who died for that motorcade to be able to drive down the Main Street.

Green was life. It was a growth and a sign that your roots were deep and your body was full energy. It was happiness and health, a lack of defeat. It was the color of the strength that grew atop the indestructible bedrock of the world. 

Zuko noticed the only similarity was the yellow accent. The Fire Nation loved gold. So did the Earth kingdom. Perhaps that, at the end of the day, was the reason for war. Pride. A flaunt of wealth. The spreading of bloodstained feathers to prove who had the more beautiful array. Zuko was reminded of all the lessons of history and logic and geography he had been given. They all spoke one truth: divine right. It was the right of the Firelord, as a ruler, to be proud and not ashamed. That pride was power and power was not to be wasted.

The Earth Kingdom also had pride but simply not as powerful as that of the Fire Nation. Shame and restrained had hindered their victory. Zuko heard all those words in his head in the dozens of voices of his past teachers. He knew what his father would say: “Well, obviously they were not that worthy of pride or they would have been powerful enough to attack our nation. But that is not the way. That is not how the world works. Fire spreads and earth scorches. Forever bearing the scar of the fire, the reminder of who has power and who does not.”

Ozai had always been so intense. When Zuko could help it, he simply did not speak to his father. But more and more his sister would bully him into the limelight. Azula never liked the fact that her brother shied away from his right to power. Zuko knew she pressured him because she was afraid he would ‘fall from grace’ and all she wanted was for him to rule as she desired to rule. Azula loved power, why didn’t Zuko? If Azula wanted to rule, then so must Zuko.

Zuko and Azula sat next to each other at the back, facing forward. Mai and Ty Lee sat across from them, the two play fighting over control of the minibar. Azula watched, smirking at her friends like a proud mother chaperoning a playdate as Zuko sat with his head in his palm, looking out the darkened window to the boulevard. Azula had convinced the guards to sit away from the private back section of the car (on pain of a torturous death) making the ride slightly more bearable. They had spent the whole day in military meetings being preached to about the success of their siege. 

The Upper Ring, where the royal and political district resided, was quickly dismantled as there only remained the palace guards, security details to aristocrats and the police. The Middle Ring had been the easiest as the most spineless of citizens lived there in comfort, away from poverty but not close enough to the palace to be able to afford protection. The Lower Ring was simply burned and the farmlands were trampled.

The girls and their families had arrived early that morning and Azula was eager to take all three of them back to the palace to be entertained for the rest of the evening and then spend this evening’s coronation party together. Zuko knew that she hated events as much as he did but he also knew Azula got enough pleasure from simply watching her friends living the good life to outweigh the headache of high society.

“Do you want gin or champagne?” asked Mai, trying to draw him back into the social circle he was trying to creep out of. They had not exchanged even a ‘hello’ all day, “I think the gin is from a back home, which means it’s probably total shit.”

“Then I guess there’s no choice, is there?” grunted Zuko. As antisocial as he was being, he knew he was giving Mai exactly what she wanted. No fuss, just anger. It was a very calm competition with her. Who could show they were in more turmoil without blowing their top? Who could be as brutal as they were calm and collected. Trauma, best served cold.

“Then let’s get popping!” squealed Ty Lee. She took the bottle and struggled with the top. She had tried to make it look as picture perfect as possible but, in the end, had to sheepishly pass it over to Azula. With a furrowed brow and a collected composure, his sister expertly ripped off the wrapping and twisted the wire top off. A pause. An explosion all over the car. Azula smirked victoriously. Ty Lee giggled loudly, exclaiming her ecstasy and Mai whispered ‘yes’ through a tight smile.

Zuko stared at the girls with little interest. He felt like he was a million miles away from this car. Or maybe that was just where he wanted to be.

The champagne was poured, drunk and quickly re-poured. Ty Lee had already begun to hiccup. Mai scoffed as Azula shamed her:

“Hell, Ty Lee, an infant could have handled that better than you did.”

Zuko thought of how he had never seen Azula drunk. He had, on multiple occasions, challenged that with many a competition but had never survived the night to see the potential results. Drunk. Party. Nighttime. Regrets. The images of his first kiss with Mai on that balcony flashed through his head. There was never a second one (though not for a lack of trying). He only regretted the shame. He had never made so many mistakes with one person so quickly.

Ty Lee pulled out her phone as she sipped her third glass, “Ugh, Azula, not to push your buttons or anything, but how long will it take for Wi-fi to be put in this shithole?”

“They had it,” admitted Zuko, “We shut it down.”

“Well, the army has its own satellite connection. I don’t see what the point of a military is if not to serve the Firelord and her friends.” She took out her phone and quickly passed on connection to Ty Lee’s.

She then took what for a normal person would have been a deeply unattractive photo from a deeply unattractive angle but what for her became a high end photoshoot.

“I’m killing myself trying to find a caption!” she squeaked, “Should I do ‘Back in the limo’ or ‘when you accidentally open your front camera’?”

“I honestly don’t know which one embarrasses you less,” stated Mai as dryly as always.

Ty Lee ignored her completely and chose the latter.

“After, I want to take a picture doing a handstand on top of the limo.”

“And you should do it with the whole motorcade and guard detail in the photo,” added Zuko, wishing to fuel the fire.

Ty Lee gasped at such an inspiring addition to her art.

“I’m only taking that picture if you promise to fall,” added Mai. Azula chuckled heartily as the girls smirked at each other.

“You’re such a vibe killer,” sighed Ty Lee, shaking her head at Mai. 

The car stopped.

“Oh,” exclaimed Azula with satisfaction, “We’ve arrived!”

The doors were opened for them, the twelve guards that were all crammed in the limo had already piled out and arranged themselves around the group of four. The car was parked directly in front of the main steps rising up to the Royal Palace. The building was indescribable past the word ‘monumental’. It was symbolic, enormous, imposing and impossible. The architectural mastery alone was years ahead of anything the rest of the world had seen. Its walls and roofs looked indestructible. The decoration was mesmerising. Greens and browns and metals. The pillars seemed ferocious and the floors looked like they could bite. Zuko was afraid to walk in. He felt as if the building was programmed to kill someone like him on sight. He had already entered and left the building many times before. 

Azula was already making her way up the stairs. Ty lee was forcing Mai to take pictures of her. Zuko slowly began to climb. He turned around. It wasn’t all so pretty. There were scorch marks and ruins all over the landscape. To the west there was a terrifying column of smoke that was making good work of covering the sky. That fire concerned Zuko the most of all current issues. The factory districts had caught fire. Five months ago, at the beginning of the siege, that would have been a great victory but not now that they owned those factories. Now, all those workers had no income, no food, no safety and all those living near or in the hazard zone were helpless.

Azula had ripped into the generals at this morning’s war council for ruining their chances at harvesting the resources from the neighbourhoods. Having a five and a half foot, twenty year old verbally attack you with the fury of a dragon was enough to make any warmongering psychopath stay quiet for at least the rest of the day.

Hovercrafts and drones floated all over the sky (except over the Upper Ring, as not to disturb the Palace). If they had a view of the shore, fleets of warships would have been unsettlingly visible.

They all jogged after Azula and made their way through the main entrance. And down the main hall.

“I will never get used to this absurd building,” Azula shook her head, checking down the various halls, “Don’t get me wrong, I understand a desire for a higher standard of life but this is just...”

“Totally ridiculous,” finished Zuko as he stretched his neck the opposite direction from Azula to look down another hall.

One of the four servants that stood at their side in a perfect line stepped forward and bowed, “Your highnesses, my ladies, I would be honoured to lead you to where you desire.”

“Yes, I know,” answered Azula tiredly as she waved a hand at him, “Take us to a living quarter. Somewhere large enough for the four of us to enjoy ourselves as we prepare for tonight.”

“Certainly, Princess. There are royal lounges and living quarters this way. You will have ample room for your guests.”

They walked for a while down the vast hallways with ceilings so high the roof was too dark to see. Two Firelords, two ladies, four servants and now eight guards. Many palace workers passed them. They all bowed until the group passed them by. The palace was heavily patrolled by soldiers. They all stood to attention as they passed. Everyone was Fire Nation. Anyone who had worked for the Earth King could not be trusted and thus was ousted from office.

They finally arrived and were shown into a spacious room with a massive cushioned area in the middle. It looked like a bed but was much too big for that. It lay upon four wide steps and yet, with all that, there still remained enough floor space for a small party. On one wall was a massive aquarium, on the other wall was an intricately woven map of the world and on the final wall was a cinema screen. Zuko saw the equally oversized projector implemented on the ceiling. The last wall was gone, replaced by a beautiful balcony with swaying silk curtains and a table with chairs already set for four.

A timid smile snuck onto Zuko’s face. This was a gift worth accepting. Ty Lee giggled excitedly as she jumped onto the so-called bed to grab the remote before anyone else.

“Although” she hesitated, “I guess there won’t be much to see. Let’s check if we can get some music playing, at least.”

Mai slumped onto the colossal cushions and Azula made her way over to the table full of small canapés. Zuko snuck out to the balcony to look out onto the small region of affluence and the expansive destruction beyond that. From the palace, the gaping hole in the Inner Wall was visible.

From inside, music began to play, the bass shaking even the balcony. Zuko didn’t turn back. He couldn’t look away from the giant burn marks around the breach. He noticed there was even still a bit of smoke still rising slowly from the edges. The sun was setting over the walls. There was little time left to relax before they were ushered off to this party. It was time to take advantage of his current situation.

He retreated back inside and sat with Mai who had stolen an entire tray of small pieces of toast topped with salmon, cream and tiny green garnish. She had eaten at least eight or nine already. He dropped next to her moodily and began to benefit from her platter of riches. Azula filed her nails while periodically checking ahead of her to the other side of the room where the screen was. It showed a music video for whatever insanely loud music Ty Lee had decided to share with the group. She was curating a supposedly perfect playlist for the next hours of prep time.

“Okay ladies and boy, we really should be getting ready for this idiotic clown festival. Am I going to dress myself? Where the hell are these pathetic servants?” Azula began to shout near the end as she stormed out the door to find someone to assist them. There was a moment of silence in the room.

“Okay, babes!” Sang Ty Lee as she cartwheeled off the bed, stealing a canapé on her way out to chase after Azula, “Let’s get pretty…-er!”

Mai and Zuko were alone.

“So,” Began Mai stoically, “How long will it take you to sneak off into some corner, never to be seen for the rest of the night?”

“Funny,” replied Zuko, “I was gonna ask you that.”

“You probably won’t see me until my parents get too tired and leave for bed.”

“Smart.”

“Well, I guess it’s not so easy for you,” she contemplated as she stretched her arms up and rose from the bed, “they’re gonna put you on a big throne for everyone to gawk at and you’ll never be able to leave until dances or whatever.”

“And will you be partaking in the gawking?” Zuko asked dangerously.

Mai looked down at him, “I would be so embarrassed if you were my brother.” 

“Has anyone ever told you how annoyingly rude you are?” muttered Zuko.

“No, not really. I’m rich, I’m powerful and that means there are very few people in my life who can get away with it. But you're the Firelord so… ‘Yes, your highness’ or whatever.”

Zuko crossed his arms, making himself even more reclusive, “You know I could have you arrested -or worse- for just saying that shit.”

Mai laughed, “and that’s the most pathetic bit: you never would. Not even if I were some beggar off the street.”

“Is that seriously so bad?”

“No, but neither is it impressive.”

The girls walked back into the room with at least eight very stressed servants. Zuko was sure that they had all been standing directly outside the door the entire time but the fact that they had to wait or shout was enough to merit a ten minute lecture from Azula. 

Out with the casual, in with the fashionable. The four started undressing and conversing with the staff on how they were to be dressed and what their accessories would be. All had been chosen for them by tailors and designers. The power of the rich.

Zuko’s favorite part of this very unappealing process was the end when they mixed old and new. The suits and shirts and shoes were always hot off the presses but the jewelry was always ancient by hundreds if not thousands of years.

After having been washed and groomed and cleaned, they moved on to their wardrobes.

Ty Lee weeped over the beautiful, two-piece gown she had laid out for her. Mai groaned as two servants helped her undress and get her into the very long, many layered dress that distinctly paralleled the shirt and jeans she was previously wearing.

Zuko buttoned up his shirt. Silk, pure vermilion red with gold buttons. He slipped on the black blazer and the matching black trousers. The blazer had a thin golden lining along the collar and lapels. It all fit tightly, stretching itself over his body. Finally, after some very soft socks, he pushed his feet into a pair of painfully shaped dress shoes. The leather was a darker red. It all seemed too much.

Finally, the enjoyable part had arrived. One woman sat him down in front of a very large mirror that had been wheeled into the room. They began with his hair; gelled, combed, perfected and all in a bun, tied with a small, crimson colored ribbon. A little metal headpiece of matching color was slipped over it. There were two golden prongs in the shape of little flames, rising from the base. Zuko loved the little crown. He never really understood why.

Next came the shoulder pieces. As red and as golden and as expensive as everything else put together. The color was darker but the gold accents shone brighter than any other. It was made of two pieces- one for each shoulder- that spiked outwards in a curved fashion. Then two small link chains also of gold brought them together across the chest and two more behind.

“Powerful, brother.” Declared Azula from across the room. She moved nothing but her eyes, as the rest of her body was being attended to.

It was dark by the time they were fully ready. The sky was an array of blues falling into black. There was a soft yellow glow from the lights inside the lounge room. Azula banished all the attendants from the room and they did the final little touches alone.

They arranged themselves in front of the incredibly wide mirror to check the merchandise. The siblings in their matching suits (save for Azula’s pumps); Mai in her long, flowing robes of a much darker hue from the rest of the group- the gown was very simplistic and uniform but that made it all the more of a bold statement- and Ty Lee in her sparkling ruby dress with translucent layers on top and a fully open waist. They paused. Ty Lee’s phone flashed a white light. A minute later, thousands of individuals across the world viewed the photo of four warriors preparing for their night of victory.

They made their way slowly down the corridors to the main hall. Zuko had not yet sat in the throne room. He had not even seen it yet. There was no occasion or ceremony before tonight, only conquest.

“So, we walk in,” began Ty Lee, reading the event briefing that had been handed to her by a very disinterested Azula. Zuko knew for a fact that, on a normal day, she would have studied that document with the intensity of a panther on its prey but was always ashamed to do it in public. Perfection was not a pretty process to watch, “We walk in and Azula and Zuko will make their way directly to the thrones at the end of the room. Mai and I will have to stay in the crowd but after the first half hour we’re pretty much free to do what we want! Yay!”

“Wait. What happens in the half-hour?” Asked Zuko in desperation. The answer was already disappointing before its very arrival.

“Well, everyone introduces themselves one by one but I guess you don’t have to do anything but watch them. They usually say here if you need to greet them personally. Oh! Although you are expected to… what’s the word? Here it says ‘entertain and socialise regularly throughout the evening with a variety of guests.’”

“‘Mingle’.” grumbled Mai in disgust.

“Exactly!” burst Ty Lee with effervescence, “Although I guess that’s not the best for you guys… sorry.” 

“It’s fine!” sighed Azula with a tired and defeated tone she used solely for giving up on irrelevant arguments, “We have to do what we have to do as the kings of the world. Isn’t that right Zuzu?”

Zuko grunted.

“I don’t like that you two aren’t allowed to come with us,” he complained, “Why don’t we get to decide who comes and goes to our own coronation party.”

“You know, Zuko, you have a point. As if some stupid planner can choose who I take to my throne.”

“I don’t care,” stated Mai defiantly, “There’s no way you’re making me sit around and look at people for thirty minutes.”

“Lucky,” purred Azula, “Ah well, at least walk the aisle with us. That’ll be fun. Ty Lee, you take my arm. Mai, go with Zuko.”

Mai rolled her eyes as she raised her arm for Zuko to take it. There was an awkward pause as Zuko hesitated, staring at her as they walked, then slipped his arm under hers. Ty Lee had not wasted a moment in linking up with Azula. A triumphant smirk grew on Azula’s face. She was much too proud to simply look down at Ty Lee.

They stood tall in front of the high green doors of the throne room. There was one man rushing around, talking to someone on his phone. Another woman was listening intently on a headset. The guards stationed at the entrance reacted to a crackle on their radios and reached for the doors. The muffled commotion from within grew louder.

“I better get shitfaced or I’m leaving,” prayed Zuko.


	2. Suki

Suki

“My name is Bian Xiang. Lady Bian Xiang. I am a lady of the Bian Xiang family.”

Even the vanity mirror that Suki was boring her name with did not seem convinced. She had always known how to be polite if she wished to be so. She didn’t know how to be rich. The class acquired from wealth was not something easily learnt in a week. The snobbery, passive aggression, blissful ignorance and startling social skills had to be curated like fine art, not stolen.

Lady Bian Xiang was none of those things besides social and “social” was the last thing she needed to be. Too far in the shadows and she would get nowhere; too in the limelight and people would start asking questions.

The word of the evening was “business”. This particular persona she was to adopt specialised in private security. It was the closest Suki could get to the truth as to not risk slip ups. Twisted rights always made the best wrongs. 

Suki had prepared her Lady with emerald, satin tux. It was tight fitting and itchy making it even more restrictive than usual but she believed it to sell the “company woman” image well. There was a black clutch and heels to go with it. Instead of a shirt, she wore a lace brassiere a few shades darker than the suit and blazer. ‘Pine’ was the only thing that came to mind. She left her bob down, instead of in a bun. Some things simply were not to be changed. 

The old outfit was better, thought Suk . The multiple layers not only being insulating but actually very facilitating for combat was ingenious. It facilitated her strength. This was equally empowering in a style she was not familiar with. This suit was cunning and sneaky. These richer threads made richer lies. In a way, it made her feel even weaker. It felt as if she was fighting with herself to understand what her own body could do. There was no chemistry. 

“Lady Bian Xiang, you would love this suit,” She spoke into existence. And if the Lady was happy, all was well. 

Suki plopped down on the bed to rest as she waited for her ride to come. Defeat did not become her. Peace and conflict did but this resolve was not her territory. The worst part of losing a war was that it was just a thousand different failures dressed up as one larger one. And all one thousand and one of them had to be dealt with individually, despite them all being infuriatingly intertwined.

A ping on her phone and the driver was outside. She picked up her bag, fixed her hair one last time and made her way out the door and into the back seat of a silver coupe. The pretentiousness alone was nauseatingly pathetic. 

When Azula took the Palace, Suki could deal with it. When the siege on the outermost wall began, she could deal with it. She could plan and counter attack and rally a thousand women side by side. When the farmlands and lower city were burned and the Capital surrendered after leaving the army to die at the walls, she failed. 

The car made its way silently down the darkened streets of the Fong District. The street lights hadn’t been on in weeks after the power plants were destroyed or overtaken. One by one, the power was being returned as more orders were complied with. Suki had found a house on the edge of the Mao Yi District, which had been quickly spared from punishment.

On the inside, she knew who really failed. Every aristocratic idiot with a house to still live in. The nobles, the business owners, her new neighbors. They all hid from or welcomed the invaders. If there was no food, no worker and no meat shield left then all was lost. Apparently even their spines.

The car pulled up the Palace, lights flashing and swaying across the sky from inside. There were fountains and walkways bordering the colossal fortress. It was surrounded by a vast courtyard that was mostly empty, most of the outside decorations being much closer to the building. The door was opened by an attendant from the outside. Lady Bian Xiang stepped out of the car and made her way up the steps with a few other random guests.

And that was all the outer ring of Ba Sing Se was. A meat shield, a skin to be shed if broken or bruised. It had been forgotten but the fact still remained; that shield was alive. And it was time to start healing. 


	3. Toph

Toph

Will it ever fucking end, thought Toph. Was there nowhere in the biggest city in the world that a girl could get some peace? Had there ever been happiness? Was it all a sham, the strength and perseverance? None of it mattered now. There was no point to anything if it meant having to endure this.

“Oh, well I’m just so glad we could see you again,” Madame Chen dragged the words through her shrill, old voice, “Toph, dear! It’s good to see you! I hope you’ll come round for tea again very soon!”

The last part was much louder. Madame Chen never seemed to understand that Toph's little ears could hear perfectly well. She kept silent and looked out into the distance. The shaking and shufflin told her that the horrible old woman was finally gone.

“Really, Toph. You don’t have to be so impolite. Madame Chen is always so kind.”

Toph’s mother, the aptly named Poppy, was always hurt. Nothing Toph did seemed to please the woman’s wounded soul. 

To Toph, there was nothing worse than this. High society, events, making connections. She, like with most things, had perfected it. Toph was good at perfecting arts. But every master knows restraint and Toph had more than enough of that. She had no trouble holding back her talents for small talk and aristocratic stupidity. Neither was it a quality she particularly enjoyed in herself.

So, they were at yet another party. Lao, Poppy and Toph Beifong- the heads of the Beifong family- had been summoned to the royal palace by decree of the Fire Nation to attend the coronation of the new Fire Lords, Prince Zuko and Princess Azula. As a noble family, they were expected to bear witness to the sovereignty of their joint rule. Or something close to that extent. All Toph could absorb from the room was the apparent lack of admirable characters. The world had ended, their kingdom shattered into nothing, a foreign power finally captured the remnants of freedom and, somehow, that all deserved a soiree.

There was nothing to take away from this but second-hand shame. Toph already learned what she needed to know weeks ago nearing the end of the war. She heard of all the horrors in the Lower Ring and Agrarian Ring. The walls never fell, the Reds just punched right through it. That seemed the worst part: Ba Sing Se had not fallen, it was just dying slowly by stampede.

There was a loud noise. A symphony of trumpets and flutes and drums serenaded the entire hall as she felt the scattering of feet. Everyone was parting to both sides of the room, leaving the central carpet- a much more muffled area- empty for whoever had arrived at the main entrance. The doors opened and four people walked in together, leaving a few behind at the door.

One man began to clap. Many hearts across the room skipped a beat. More people joined in. The sterile and orderly applause spread across the room. As the four passed, those facing them in the crowd would bow.

The rest of the ceremony walked itself into Toph’s head and quickly pranced out the other end. All she remembered were speeches and declarations and gifts. In the end, there was nothing but a loud gong. The music began and people took to the dance floor as others began to pay their respects to the Firelords. Everything was disturbingly clinical. There was nothing to speak of, there was no entertainment to be gained from this. Everyone was on edge, trying even more than usual to save face in front of new management.

Then, Toph herself was in front of the lords bowing. Her father was saying something. Then, they were gone again, finding refuge near the buffet tables. The night simply could not stay in her head. 

She thought of tomorrow. During the day, instead of going to her mother’s art therapist, Toph would make her way to the Jasmine Dragon. She and her friends would bet on each other in the ring. She would win again and again, especially against the wrestlers. Sometimes the more agile ones would get in a lucky win- the acrobats and the gymnasts. The rest were big and strong and Toph could see them, clear as day. After they were all done and the sweat had dried, they would make their way upstairs and into the real Jasmine Dragon, a beautiful little tea shop with the most incredible sandwiches and rolls and any flavoured infusion imaginable.

“My Prince, It is a great honour.”

Toph had been so lost, she had not even noticed who had joined them. When she snapped to attention, the entire room had shifted. All the different pairs of feet, their voices and heartbeats had shifted across the room without her knowing. There was a new one in front of their parents.

“Yes, well, I have heard of the family Beifong. You are quite an influential family in the mining and refinery business if I’m not mistaken. Are the fires in the industrial districts affecting you harshly?” The Fire Nation rat had such a gruff voice, like a very skinny version of Master Bohai, a massive man in the coal industry that always came over to the house to argue loudly with Lao over whichever stupidity. The man smoked so many cigars that it sounded as if he himself were the one mining the coal (which was the farthest thing from true). Spineless, just like this prince. ‘Royalty’ was just another word for the fear of getting dirty. The boy turned to Toph who had made an effort to come closer to him. 

“Hello, Mistress Beifong.” He bowed his head.

“Firelord.” She bowed. She could feel the sweat on her mother’s skin. Both her parents were shaking as they stared at her greeting the boy.

“Isn’t she lovely?” chuckled Lao, “Well, as you said, Firelord Zuko, my family has yet again been blessed as most of our factories are actually outside of the city, near our mines.”

Toph felt a heartbeat skip behind her. A woman had stopped. Turned toward them and began walking their way. Toph turned around and looked directly at her like a wolf protecting her pack. The woman was taken aback for a single moment by such a strange action but did not refrain from closing in on them.

“But our buyers in the factories- the ones who use our goods- yes, they are sadly hesitant to purchase more before they can guarantee their business’ survival.”

“I see.” He seemed concerned and displeased with the truth.

“Of course,” intercepted the new woman, “It would be in the prince’s interest to protect that district above all others, what with the loss of lives.”

“Y-yes… The madame has a point, Prince,” added Lao, he was unaware of who the woman was, Toph could tell, “What with the fires many will lose their access to work and money.”

“I believe,” the prince said quietly, “The lady is talking about death, Sir Beifong.”

Lao stood blankly for a moment, “Oh. Yes.”

The woman turned to Zuko and bowed.

“Firelord Zuko, Lady Bian Xiang. I work in private security here in the city.”

She was lying. She was lying. She was lying.

“Lady Bian Xiang, an honour. A very interesting field of work that must be.”

“That’s definitely one word for it, especially at war time.”

There was a pause. Toph could sense the nerves between the prince and the new Lady. Her parents watched in agony.

“There is no war in Ba Sing Se, Lady Bian Xiang. Not anymore.”

“Yes, my lady,” stammered Lao, “The Earth Kingdom- uh, colony- has worked hard with the Fire Nation to end such horrible things.”

Lady Bian Xiang stared at the Beifongs without remorse or emotion.

“Thank you for your time, ladies, Sir Beifong. Goodbye, Mistress Beifong,” he concluded. The adults bowed as Toph nodded her head.

The prince walked away. Toph could feel it in his stomach: these manipulations were distasteful and unsettling. Or perhaps that was simply how it felt to swallow the Earth Kingdom whole. Distasteful and unsettling. 

Spineless. Spineless. Spineless. Although these people must have been the easiest to swallow. These you could chew up and suck free of all the flavour.

This Lying Lady still had a few sharp bones left in her.

That was very obvious to her parent’s as well, “You, Lady Bian Xiang, are going to get us all killed.” he whispered, almost in tears.

“Good. Let’s go down in a real fight, Beifong.”

She turned and left. There was a hesitation but she did not turn her head to them.

“Your miners died with the pickaxes as their only defense against those Fire Nation soldiers. They protected the walls and died for you. And now, to honour them, you blubber at the feat of their murderer. Was it not bad enough that they were basically your slaves, Mr. Beifong?”

Her father was so at a loss for words that nothing but gasps escaped him.The lady walked away. She seemed to be making her way towards the Princess Azula.

“Who the hell is Lady Bian Xiang?” asked her mother in a quieted voice.

“Hush, Poppy! She does not does not exist. I have never heard of such a family but I refuse to get myself mixed up in this mess without a guaranteed survival.”

“‘Guaranteed survival’?” hissed Poppy, “You said it yourself! She will get us murdered.”

Toph was more than attentive now. This woman was playing every possible game and making everybody watch. ‘Security business’. Toph could tell that was code for ‘I will beat your ass until you die but for a price’. She decided then and there that was hellbent on meeting this woman again. She had never known a noble lady who could kill, much less one in heels and a mini-dress. Most of the girls in the Jasmine Dragon were obsessive fighters but very abstinent towards the activities of the bourgeoisie. And, if her parents were correct, this woman was far from noble (socially-speaking, anyways).

The rest of the night was exhaustingly normal. She muted out the rest of the hall and simply watched Lady Bian Xiang tap her heels across the room. Toph had felt some heightened nerves when she went to speak to the princess but nothing more happened. She did not let the lady go until she left the front doors, made her way down the main steps outside and stepped into her car to drive away. Her car was as quiet as she was. 

Toph realised quickly that she had only spoken to two people: both the Firelords. No one else. Nobody knew her, in fact. Her parents were correct again. She was invisible. She was unseen, besides by the two most important people in the room. And, of course, the Beifong family.

Her one and only mistake. One that might turn costly if she did not make herself scarce from Lao’s field of view.

Toph could sense the room was getting emptier and that her parents were growing tired. She felt it in the prince boy as well. Although, he seemed to be very attentive for a single moment. She could feel it from across the hall. He was there, in his throne, sitting with another lady sitting near him (not his sister). He was looking at Toph. He was interested in something. Perhaps it was her absence of fear. Toph found that her lack of eyesight not only gave her awareness of other people, but of their own invisible awarenesses. Those- unbeknownst to them- that they regularly ignored. She could tell that Zuko had sensed something. Or, better yet, sensed nothing.

She could feel him sensing her fearlessness. Her disinterest was vibrantly resonating with him. She turned and stared right into his eyes.

His face got very hot, he froze for a moment as did his heart. He turned quickly towards the young lady at his side and did not look back. Not even a person who could see would have sensed him watching from that far. It was Toph’s favorite trick.

But even Toph was taken by surprise for a moment. She could sense something else in him. At first, she mistook it for the flushing of his cheeks when she had looked at him but no. There was a heat. A fire. Something was bursting, erupting and it was him. He was either combusting into ashes as she stood there and nobody had noticed or- Toph could think of no plausible reason. She had never sensed anything like it. Sense was not the correct word. It was a genuine feeling. An emotional heat and a physical of heat all in one. The boy was on fire.


	4. Zuko

Zuko

Zuko’s arm was strung over Mai. The four of them made their way slowly down the halls and back to the lounge. 

“I am so tired. Tired of that party. I want a real party with just you guys.”

“You know Zuko,” said Azula “That’s about the first good idea you’ve had this year.”

“Well that’s--,” he burped, “bullshit. Half this siege plan was my idea. I would call it pretty fifty-fifty between the two of us.”

“I will accept nothing under sixty five-thirty five.”

“Whatever. You two in?”

Ty Lee burped her champagne much louder than Zuko had. Mai said nothing. ‘Yes’.

They all walked into the re-tidied lounge and crashed onto the overstatement of a bed. The buffet table had been replenished. The lights were dimmer. The music was playing from the moment that they had left it, Zuko noticed. This staff were much too good at their jobs here. It was almost disconcerting.

The last few hours of the night were spent dancing, Mai watching the other three jump on the bed to ridiculous songs, Ty Lee balancing drunk on the balcony as the rest watched and cheered her on, too much food and Ty Lee vomiting in the bathroom while the other three slowly fell asleep.


	5. ________

~~~~~

That night, Toph returned home. Her parents fought the whole way. She was put to bed and she spent the rest of the night searching the streets and earth of Ba Sing Se for the Lying Lady and the Boy on Fire. She searched and searched and searched. She found one of them, fast asleep. They were having a nightmare.

Suki teared off her tight suit, threw her stupid shoes in the bin as a prayer to whatever god watched over her and made her way to bed. She could not sleep. Until, one single moment, she dropped from consciousness and into a deep but unlasting slumber. Then, she woke and set to her computer, writing down all her thoughts. Where were Kiki or Hu or Jin? Where were her sisters? What had happened to the rest? Who was dead? Where would they have hidden, if they were able to do as she had instructed? Why was she alone still?

Zuko lay still all night. He was dreaming of dragons and he dreamt of the moon. But he dreamt of the moon every night. He had done so for a very long time. 


	6. Katara

Katara

The Lower Ring was never the safest place in the world but it was still home. It was made of people, of life. They woke up, went to work, fought, cried, laughed, ate dinner, even slept sometimes. But that changed quickly. The Fire Nation’s unscrupulous attitude towards the Earth Kingdom was limitless and the relentless abuse of the public was incessant. A few months ago, the fights were worth the dignity but not worth the hospital bills. If soldiers and cops came picking on anyone it was just expected that your honour was at stake if you let them do that to you. It was definitely in the dirt if you let someone else suffer to it. Now, it simply wasn’t worth it.

Though recently, matters seemed to be taking care of themselves. The so-called slums of the border now had Lady Luck on their side- literally. A few months before the Fall of Ba Sing Se, much of the night crime in the Northern District seemed to be taken care of by a mysterious and powerful lady. Abductors and attackers were found in dumps unconscious those out on the street slept easy. 

Without word or warning, the Painted Lady had arrived. 

And she was not alone. Only a month before, a train had been hijacked, the lights went out and a group of undercover Fire Nation agents were thrown out onto the platform of a passing station. The train halted, all the passengers ran off and the spies were tossed. It did not stop again and the lights did not go back on until it reached the end of the line. Further investigation by authorities didn’t go far. All they could get was one or two tall tales of some hooded figure in makeup who had somehow taken down the lights and finished off the men in the dark. The passengers say they heard nothing but the men’s painful yells. After that, there seemed to be almost nightly appearances of the silent warrior lurking the back streets of Ba Sing Se.

As for the Painted Lady, everyone always saw her coming and it simply didn’t matter. It wasn’t much of an advantage if the only call sign was mist. Wherever the lady went, a thick and impenetrable fog followed close. She drifted through the streets, with no noise but the low hiss of vapor. Those who saw her named her so after the red markings across her chest and face. The massive brim of her hat and the long flowing robes hid the rest. The locals were sure that their neighbourhoods were being haunted by spirits and demons. Whatever they were, they did well to keep the average person quite happy. They did not only antagonise and protect. Sometimes, the mist brought food. Sometimes, the man climbing the walls and hiding in the shadows left a blanket over you while you slept.

Katara obviously knew nothing about this. Refugees like her did not leave stalkers with the water in their bodies at boiling point or soldiers with ice sticking through their shins. She sat to the side, silently complying with authority after spending months of agony trekking the entire world for a home.

She knew nothing of guardian angels and night time defenders. The Painted Lady was most likely a myth anyway, people simply protecting themselves while enacting vigilante justice on their enemies.

Hakoda was not convinced. He knew better than to accept his daughter’s indifference. Naturally, she would have been fascinated with such tales, especially one whose very existence was debated.

Katara admittedly had not done too well at lying; not as well as Sokka anyway. All her brother had to do was make a joke about the secret heroes at Katara’s expense and everything was right with the world and more than believable. The truth was it didn’t really matter. Her father was months from being healthy enough to actually be in charge of their household. Right now, all three of them were on their own. They were choosing to stay together as one. None of them had anywhere to go or wanted it any other way but the truth still stood out.

Hakoda looked exhausted. In truth, he looked dead but his eyes blinked slowly, his mouth shook with every breath and his skin was so pale he looked nauseous at every moment so that liveliness made him seem more tired than gone. His arm was in a cast and sling. The rest of him was in a wheelchair. 

Usually, they would sit on the floor, eating on a much lower table but he could not reach or make the trip down to the floor and up to his seat so many times a day. All three of them lived in a rundown housing project in the North District of the lower city. It was the cheapest (and smallest) place that could be found for them.

The grey, shadowy apartment had one small kitchen, two bedrooms and a small living room at the front door. There was one full bathroom and, besides the elevator outside, the place was deeply inaccessible. It was all they had. It was all they could have. Three months in Ba Sing Se and they had lost everything for the second time. Firstly, their home and now their refuge. If they were ever found, they were sure to be murdered, silently and confidentially.

‘Three immigrants dead in Projects. Ages unknown.’

The truth was so hurtful, even thinking about any aspect of her life made Katara go mad.

They all sat on the couch, watching television. Hakoda had requested to be moved out of his chair and his children reacted instantly without a word. They two ‘one-two-three’ed him up and on to the dusty couch. They each sat at his sides. They rested in silence. There was nothing else to do but be silent. There was nothing to speak of but pain and that was unspeakable. A few hours later and both the men were sleeping with their jaws hanging wide open. They looked like twins to her. She stared for a bit. In an odd way, Sokka looked exactly like his father and yet nothing like him and exactly like his mother. 

Katara couldn’t help it. The image of her mother in a horrifically similar position all those months ago made her wince and rush out of the room. The single tiny bedroom she slept in had a little balcony to escape onto. In reality, it was nothing but a railing around a sliding door that was meant to be a window. It didn’t do much but it was at least enough to hang out of and get outside without leaving the house.

She looked up at the scarce amount of stars. Back home, there were more stars than anyone could ever spot in a lifetime. Every constellation and every shooting star. All the auroras of green to blue. The icy deserts of the south were bare and harsh, just like its sky. 

Their settlement back home was not as industrious as these ones in Ba Sing Se. In the south, each family had a house. New buildings of pre-made, modular box homes built from containers mixed with ancient snow temples and cities of packed ice. Behind the settlement was the airstrip. 

Katara remembered once, when she was out watching the sunset on the cliffs, she saw a massive plane barrel its way into the airport. That night, her father and a few other travellers came back with enough food and gifts that the whole tribe had a feast. They were so determined to have the meal all together that they spent at least an hour trying to find a place for everyone to sit down in the warmth. The old temple where they crammed everyone in for tribal meetings was much too small for a festival and banquet. 

She could still remember her mother’s eyes sparkling as she gasped and shouted her brilliant idea to the elders. That night, they all took a short walk as a grand family, dragging along all the food and ovens and lights and batteries to an old cargo jet crash. The plane had to be at least forty years old but was so well preserved on the surface of the ice and inland enough to be safe for entering. The inside had been stripped bare long before then. They sat on the floor and ate until there was nothing left, talked until there were no more arguments or jokes to be had, sang until they were bored of every song and then made their tired way back home. Back then, their tribe could not have been more than two hundred. Today, they could not have been more than ten in the whole world.

All of it, burned away. For nothing. There was no point to what was done to them. Had the Fire Nation taken over the Earth Kingdom, the Water Tribes would not have lasted more than a few months without flying out for supplies. They would have had to resort to the survival tactics of their ancestors. They would have been the farthest thing from dangerous.

Or, countered Katara, they could have just stayed in their rotting hole of a country and left the rest of us and the Earth Kingdom alone.

There was nothing to do but be alive. Living was not an option. But being alive, surviving was all that was left of their birthright. Their people were warriors, they thrived in places where those with weaker hearts could not. They were born and raised to conquer their own flaws. But it was different back home. In the ice, you were never alone. You always had someone close. Someone was always listening. Here, nobody cared for anything, not even themselves.

The bed squeaked. Katara swung around so quickly she almost fell from the balcony. Sokka had slipped into the room and sat onto the bed. He looked sad, staring at the floor with a shame that was so new yet so aging, his back hunched with the weight of so much guilt.

Katara looked once more out the window, then back to her brother.

“The moon’s pretty bright out tonight.”

Sokka didn’t respond.

“So then you can’t sleep still, huh?”

Sokka shrugged, “She won’t leave my head. Just now I was dreaming of it. But this time it was different. This time there was something flying around her. Like a dragon.”

“A dragon was flying around the moon?”

Sokka sighed, “And then I woke up. Though, this time I didn’t hear anything. I guess it’s up to you tonight.”

Katara stared at him for a bit. Then walked over to her closet and took out a very long box. It was filled with a very particular set of clothing and accessories.

“Then, we better get started.”

Sokka walked over and knelt beside her.

She took out a beautifully carved wooden box with their tribal insignia etched into the centre. Under it were the characters for Sokka’s name:  索卡血月 . She opened it. There was a black ribbon and three little jars made of glass. They each were filled with pigment. One black, one grey, one white. There was also a roll of normal scotch tape and a few stained sponges.

She took the ribbon and handed it to Sokka. As he brought his loose mop of hair into a tight top knot, she began to unpack the paints and sponges. Sokka sat on his knees, facing towards her. She took the tape, placed two pieces symmetrically from the top of his ear to the edge of his lips on both sides of his face. She then began to plunge one of the sponges into the white pigment and spread it across the entire bottom half of his face including his lip. She blew softly to dry it quicker. Sokka took off the tape and his sister put new pieces on the edge of the white paint and began painting the top part of his face and lip with the grey paint. Next, she took one of her own brushes from the larger box and began to paint the finer details around his eyes, a long triangle down his forehead and two fang-like spikes on his chin all in black. She finished cleaning the brush on a dirty towel and filled in his eyebrows sharply with more white pigment.

The calmness was mesmerising. She felt nothing but peace. Her brother emptiness and love. It was all she had left to give and so few people to give it to. No one in the world knew or understood what they were doing. Explaining it as war paint was not even close to the truth. This was a war that had never ended and one that never could. Now, it was better named ‘life paint’ for Sokka. He would never yield this box and its meaning. The people who understood his fight were all dead. The people who would have proudly told him how right he was were all murdered.

The price that needed to be paid by her brother and by their enemies was unspeakable and impossible. There was simply no way that much blood could be shed and there was simply no way to bring people back to life. They were all that was left and they could never let go. Who could let go of every single thing they ever knew? Even their father was half gone and, now that the war was done and their new home taken, there was no way they could go to a doctor to even know if Hakoda would survive. The bandages were made by Katara and the wheelchair had been supplied by a few lasting friends of theirs. Sokka had worked tirelessly on it to make sure it wasn’t so consistently faulty.

‘It’s just like the ski mobiles back home’ he would always say. They would never leave his mind. Katara wasn’t too sure why he could never let that particular thing go. She was starting to deduce it was the freedom of going so fast in such a desolate, free space, with only the people you wanted. Sokka suffered from a love-hate relationship with his culture’s desire for close contact.

She packed everything back into the little brown box and put it back into the much bigger box of all their dreams. She took her long purple gown and slipped her enormous wicker hat out of the back of her closet. She slipped out of her overalls and t-shirt. Sokka walked out of the room to grab his own attire. She threw over her floppy gown that sat on her neck and over her shoulders. Sokka came into the room with black jogger pants and sneakers as he slipped on a black t-shirt over his head, carefully missing his hair and makeup. Katara had already started her own, much simpler, makeup as before he came in, she turned for a moment to notice him and back to the box to rummage through and find his utility vest. It was a tangle of black buckles and tiny patches for pockets but Sokka expertly undid the mess and threw it on, fastening all its different pieces. He checked that each pocket still had its contents, then turned and sat next to Katara again.

They stared at each other for a moment. It was kind. Everything else was not. Sokka picked up her yellow paint and stuck his little finger into it. He drew steadily on her forehead: her sideways crescent moon. They started to pack everything up. Sokka took out a bundle wrapped in a canvas. He opened it on the floor and slipped its contents into all the straps and fittings on his vest and pants. Blades, cable ties, sprays, brass knuckles. The list went on. The last and most important was a single, black double-edge sword. That fit onto his back. 

Katara nodded her approval. Powerful, as always.

She took her hat and fit her head under the dark mesh fabric that was stitched into the brim covering the top-most part of her. She slipped into sandals as Sokka flipped up his black hood. He was almost but a shadow.

There was a silent moment. Sokka was waiting for Katara’s hesitation to pass. These were such unprecedented times when Sokka was reckless and quiet and Katara was incautious and unsure. There was no thought process, only knowing. They simply knew what they were doing to be right and true. They had lost everything. If they lost anymore- especially their heart-, they would surely feel it. This simple rule kept them in line.

They left the same little note they did every night in front of their father on the coffee table. Sokka went to turn off the TV and leave his father in some more peace but Katara stopped him for fear it would wake him. They sneaked out the front door, rushed down the eight flights of stairs and creeped out the back door. 

The two of them coasted through the streets like they were on ice. Firstly, they hid in the subpath system; tunnel-ways that stretched under mainstreets and buildings for pedestrians. If time was a factor, they could skip through the city in the abandoned gutters and storm drains. They made their way to the Middle Ring. They ran around the more expensive shops, stealing food and money and anything else they knew would be needed. This all took about an hour if Katara could get them there fast. Sokka would take down the alarms and do most of the stealing. By midnight they could be back in the Lower Ring to pass around what they had found.

The first part went about as expected. The most bother they ever got on the worst of nights was from a few nighttime walkers. Tonight it was only a few overprotective pets and stray cats.

By the time they ran out of gifts to give around town, it was only quarter to twelve. Sokka’s head began to bother him, as always. 

“Where to, Moon Spirit?” Asked the lady in red, “Anything specific?”

“I’m feeling like a trip downtown,” Said the man in black.

And so they went. It was a gang of younger men lurking around an alley. They dealt with them quickly. Sokka tried his best to get any extra information before getting rid of them but they never budged. They were most likely freelancers. They usually were in this district. Just monsters trying to take advantage of the underworld. Sokka finished. Katara lifted the fog around the house. Kidnappers, smugglers and murderers in Ba Sing Se were so common that it didn’t even feel like a problem anymore. It had simply become their nine-to-five.

And that was how it went until the sky began to brighten. ‘Where to, Sokka?’ ‘Anywhere it hurts the most, Katara’. Back and forth. Dealers, murderers, abusers, burglars, every stupid or cocky soldier that got in the way. Katara was almost twenty years old and this was her life now. Every night that they could stand to stay awake and every night there wasn’t too much resistance from the enemy (or the cops), again and again. 

But tonight was one of those special nights. It was barely two in the morning when Katara felt a vibration in her back pocket. She was wearing shorts under her dress. She never wore them during the day but it seemed the most practical option; small, tight, discreet (when under a dress at any rate). She made a face to her brother and they rushed to a side alley. They both hid behind a dumpster as he kept watch and she took the call.

“Jet, I’m kind of on shift right now.”

“I know,” said the intense voice on the other side, ”That’s kind of the idea. Can I call you in for a meeting? You know where.”

“Right.”

“By the way,” he concluded, “You really should stop using your personal phone for work calls.”

Katara rolled her eyes and let him hang up. She knew how much this idiot enjoyed his drama. But he was as much a genius as he was a dumbass. The drama was just the price you had to pay for such an influential ally.

Katara didn’t look up. “Jet’s calling us in for something. I think it might be worth our while.” 

“It’s your call.” Sokka didn’t look down.

She sighed. In a fierce motion, Katara raised both her hands and a loud hissing filled the alley. The mist followed, jetting up from the ground. They both sprung into action, running for the nearest gutter drain in the road. Sokka hooked his sword into the top and flipped it open. They both jumped inside. Katara closed her eyes and breathed deeply as Sokka closed the entrance above them. She concentrated on the horrible stench and what was causing it. She felt the faintest stream of water push around her sandals. 

Feel the flow. Be it. Take it. 

Find the current and track it all the way down stream to the sea and then find the mouth and then upstream to her. Find her. Find her flowing current. Now, come back to the flowing water beneath you and never forget. It is all one and the same. One tide. One water. One river.

Katara opened her eyes. She and Sokka were surfing on a very thin, very fast moving current under their feet. It had taken Sokka days to perfect it and weeks for Katara to perfect travelling with a passenger. The gutters were large enough to fit at least a few people shoulder to shoulder but were very empty in the ways of sewage or rain so Katara managed with the puddles and streams that were left behind.

They made their way inwards, towards the Middle Ring. Katara slowed the current under a large enough grate in the road for both of them to escape out of. She waited a moment. Katara spotted a large structure arching over the road above. There began a slow rumbling. It was now or never. She signalled to Sokka and he busted open the grate.

They climbed out into the cool night air. The street lights were dark and so were all the houses. Above them lay a grand row of towering iron pillars. It was built similarly to an aqueduct but in reality it housed the monorail system. Katara could hear a train coming closer, headlights beginning to flash through the night sky.

Sokka sprinted towards the closest pillar. He climbed the walls of the two buildings it was wedged between until there was no building left and then crawled up the metal beams. Katara jumped from side to side, freezing water beneath her foot wherever it landed. Up, Up, up she jumped, back and forth before the two of them were hanging directly under the track. This was the tricky part. Katara had to time it perfectly, landing them both onto the train without falling directly off it afterwards. Sokka could make the initial leap on his own but needed a bit of a boost and repositioning on his way to the top of the train car. The track and pillar began to shake violently. The noise became dangerous and the lights sprinted closer to them. 

Sokka began to swing back and forth, gaining momentum.

Three. Two. One. Faith.

They banged against the roof of the car. Both of them ducked down to stay closer to the ground instead of closer to their death. Ten minutes later, they were speeding through the Middle Ring, making no stops. Here, the streetlights were on and the crowds too big to be seen in.

The monorail ran directly through the centre of the wide avenue. The lights didn’t reach the middle, making the elevated track a perfect shelter for the secret poverty of the Middle Ring. That and the alleys and abandoned basements of random buildings.

Katara spotted the red glowing sign up the side of the building: THE JASMINE DRAGON. It was all dark besides that. It grew much closer. Katara could safely make a quiet leap across to the roof if she had enough water to cushion the impact. So could Sokka. Although impossible, she had seen him leap across from the train all the way to the building without injury. He always blamed it on the speed of the train but Katara knew better. From the outside, the jump looked more than inhuman. Even still, it never failed to work up her nerves. The question always prevailed ‘What if this time?...’.

They both landed safely. Sokka’s hand gripped roughly onto the edge for a moment before he vaulted himself up. Katara secretly looked away. She felt horrible for doing so.

She turned and saw Sokka simply sitting on the ledge, looking out at everything. The city had a variety of pedestrians during the nighttime, even after everything that had happened. They waited for a few minutes but Katara slowly grew more and more agitated.

“We shouldn’t keep Jet waiting.”

Sokka couldn’t help but start laughing, “Oh, you care so deeply for him?”

She smirked, “Shut up, asshole.”

“Oh, I’m the asshole. Not Theatre Kid down there.”

“He’s not that dramatic,” argued Katara, not even believing herself.

“Please, the guy basically thinks he’s G.I. Joe.”

They chuckled quietly in the night.

“Let’s go.” Katara walked over to the side of the building where the alley lay in darkness and slipped off over the edge. Sokka followed suit, scaling down the side of the tea shop. They turned the corner, around the wall and skipped down the stairs to the basement door hidden below the Jasmine Dragon. The door had no window or outside handle. There was a camera in the upper left corner and a tiny eyehole in the centre. Katara placed her hand on the door. She screwed her eyes shut and mist spilled out of the little waterpack sitting on her hip. 

Concentrating directly on the metal door in front of her, she pushed vapour towards it, seeping through the edges and cracks. The calling card of the Water Tribe siblings. The door swung open and the two rushed inside. The door slammed shut behind them.

The basement was always so dark; nothing like it’s more legal counterpart upstairs. It was musty, dim and very cold. There was a constant stress from the quiet bickering and loud whispers hiding in every corner of the room. In the middle lay a large fighting ring with a bright, fluorescent light fixture hanging precariously above it. The stairs down to the front door were steep but it seemed impossible that all this could fit under so little space.

They made their way to the other side of the room to where a small lounge with sofas and a television lay. In the corner sat Jet on his phone as three of his friends fought over the only two remotes for the game currently being played on the screen. The floor was littered with beer cans. Energy drinks and a small vodka bottle lay in a closer vicinity to Jet.

“Well, we obviously weren’t keeping you waiting,” grunted Sokka to get Jet’s attention.

Jet looked up with little interest. He saw his two favorite assets standing in front of him quite unimpressed with what he had to offer. The moment he actually noticed who they were, he shot up out of his rut in the ground, kicking around cans, and greeted them with the slyest of grins.

“Katara!” he began joyously.

“Hey Jet,” intercepted Sokka, “You got a job for us?”

Jet was slightly taken aback by Sokka derailing his flirtation but recomposed himself quickly. Nothing said ‘Jet’ like perfect posture with a perfect smile. It was never a good one, you looked at it and it told you that trouble was right around the corner and it was all for you.

“Yeah, well, it’s kind of a joint effort, you know? A team building type thing, a crossover.”

“Great.”

“I think Sokka is just concerned that you might get in- we might get in  _ each other’s _ way,” corrected Katara.

“Oh, you think my little comrades can’t keep up? I dragged you all the way from the Southern Temples to Ba Sing Se and now we’re too slow for you,” His tone was playful but Katara knew his ego was already cracking.

“Well, less ‘slow’ and more ‘incompatible’. Not to say we didn’t do a lot of good work back then-”

“A  _ lot _ of good work,” he smirked. Katara loathed how he seemed to be attracted to his own work with a passion, “I mean, remember Jang Hui?”

“Get a room, pervert,” groaned Sokka. He hated it even more.

“Look, we just need some back up to do a single mission for an old friend.”

“Oh, so now you’re mercenaries?” accused Sokka.

“Uhm, was that not clear to you?”

“What is clear, Smuggler, is that you're drowning in whatever shit you got yourself into and you need us to pull you out.”

“Please, Sokka, I didn’t even make you pay the rest of your dues for smuggling you through two fucking countries! You kind of owe me.”

“Owe you!” Sokka had begun screaming, “Because the way I remember it _ , we _ hauled  _ your _ ass all the way to this shithole city! And Katara, me and Longshot did all the work!”

“Sokka-” Katara attempted.

“I went hunting, I snapped the neck of every bastard your stupid swords couldn’t reach and Longshot took care of everyone else. And Jang Hui was basically Katara all by herself!”

The room was silent except for the deafening stares from every corner of the room.

“So I’ll take that as a ‘No we don’t want to help you’.”

Sokka’s entire demeanour shifted. He crossed his arms and stepped back from his victory, “You really do need our help, don’t you?”

“Sokka, I respect both of you greatly and the work you’ve done fo-”

“Shut up, Jet. You're so desperate you're even sacrificing your pride. And that’s something coming from you.” Sokka turned and huddled with his sister for a moment. 

Katara stood, thinking through their options. There were barely a few hours left of darkness before they would have to make their way home. If the mission was worth half this trouble it wouldn’t be easy or quick. But if it was difficult and time consuming it was most likely worth the trouble. Katara was obviously relying on the little notion that Jet knew that he would get his ass served directly back to him if it turned out to be just an errand run.

She nodded up to Sokka. 

“Let’s hear the details first. We’ll decide after.” Katara’s voice played well into calming the room. It was time for business.

“Happy to do business, Katara.” He walked them over to a large desk filled with monitors and stacks of laptops, some of them dismantled, others running idly. He sat down and started tapping around on the centre monitor, “This is the Royal District,” A map of the city popped up, showing specifically the central zone. He scrolled, zooming in on one specific building, “And these are the headquarters of the Secret Police. The Dai Li.”

“Great,” grunted Sokka tiredly, “let me guess: we’re the lucky winners of the Break In Challenge.”

Jet stared at him for a moment too long, “That would imply you already broke in.”

“Shut up. What do you want from the worst place to break into in the world?”

“Information.”

Sokka raised a single eyebrow, “Fine. Intriguing.”

“What kind of information?” asked Katara.

“All of it. ‘Cus I don’t want the information. I mean, you’re free to stay and browse but I suggest bringing an oxygen tank if you know what I mean.” he chuckled alone, “The… the information- because we’re going to burn it all?”

“For what possible reason?” She felt as if she was just fueling this boy’s neurosis.

“We save countless lives. Not just from death but horrible subjugation from the Fire Nation. The Dai Li weren’t the best Ba Sing Se has to offer. To be honest, for being the best city in the world, it’s kind of a mess.”

“Oh, no shit?” asked Sokka with enough sarcasm to kill a large animal.

“Anyway, the Dai Li were pretty bad at, you know, respecting basic rights and personal privacy. They have a lot of info on a lot of people. Anyone who’s ever been trouble or posed an interest to the Earth King is there in the archives. They can be pretty meticulous with their research.”

“How far are you talking?” inquired Sokka.

“Address, previous address, parent’s address. Photos of you leaving that address. Bank details. Parent’s bank. ATM footage of you withdrawing from that bank. The list isn’t just long, it’s thorough. They had more resources than any other organisation in the Kingdom.”

“And even with all this the city still fell.” She whispered.

“Taxpayers’ money hard at work!” sneered Sokka.

“Well I wouldn’t know about that-”

“Wow! What a badass you are,” sneered Sokka again.

“Perks of being completely broke, I guess,” said Jet innocently, “So the plan is to break in (you can follow our lead for that part), get in the archives while another team gets into the server room holding the digital versions, and sneak out without- you know- dying or whatever.”

Katara cleared her throat, trying to control the oncoming rage and frustration.

“Jet?”

“Ka-” His smile dropped after seeing her face, “Katara?”

“Did it not cross your mind to inform us of this extremely dangerous plan, say, a million months ago?”

“Oh. Well, it would’ve but we actually just came up with it like a week ago, so...”

The brother and sister stared at Jet- slumped in his swinging chair- with the eyes of vengeful gods who had grown shameful of their creation.

“So really… I guess you’re pretty much the most informed out of anyone besides us!” Jet was desperately trying to regain his control. Katara could feel herself slipping from his fingers.

“You want to break into this fucking fortress,” repeated Sokka in a quiet tone, “Tonight. After a week of planning. To burn the two most important rooms in the entire building.”

“You know,” croaked Jet, “I want to say ‘yes’ but-”

“Jet, I swear to every damn spirit,” Sokka was twitching for murder.

“Jet,” Interjected Katara. There was just no point in conflict tonight and she was growing very tired, “This will be the absolute dumbest thing you have ever asked of us. If we actually decide to go, don’t be surprised if we never talk again.”

“Katara, I-”

“Dude, I have told you to shut up like five times in the last ten minutes. Next time I won’t be so kind.” Sokka was nearing the end of his rope.

Jet tried very hard to stay quiet.

The thing that made Katara angriest was the fact that this idea was extremely important and extremely worth it. That sort of information must have already been in the hands of the Fire Nation meaning that every hour they wasted debating meant lives were being taken under their noses. Blackmail, murder and highjacking.

“What about the real crimes?” asked Katara.

“They would be there too, I imagine,” agreed Jet.

“So all the shady, psychotic shit the Earth Kingdom has ever pulled, all the organized crime that mobsters got away with-”

Jet shrugged. “Unless there’s a room called ‘Our Bad’ where they keep all those files but something makes me doubt that.” 

“And all ongoing investigations as well, if that’s kept on the same server,” added Sokka, catching on to the point, “But I doubt there’s a physical copy of those in storage.”

“Right,” she said, “anything that would’ve actually been good for the public to know about. It’ll all be trashed.”

“Katara, people are dying. People will die every day if-” Jet was cut short.

“Do not lecture me about murder, Jet! Don’t lecture me on what the Fire Nation will do, I’m not a child.”

“I know you’re not.” It came out more like ‘I know you.’

Katara looked up at Sokka. His face repeated it back to her. There was no choice. It was a good idea in theory and they would have done it any other day but Katara was begging to slow down this trainwreck of a scheme. There seemed to be no brake on it though.

“Fine, Jet, you’ve got your backup. But Katara’s right: this is probably your well deserved goodbye.” Sokka had no love in his voice but she could tell he was doing what he actually thought was right.

That slim grin stretched itself back across Jet’s face.

“Well, that settles it!” he turned to the others in the room, “Pack up guys, we’re burning the fucker down! Tonight, we’re gonna make both these pieces-of-shit governments regret ever disappointing us,” he finished quietly, staring at Katara.

“Enthusiasm never hurt any cause, Jet, but remember who actually won this war.”

“Katara, I expected better from you,” his voice reached a level of drama beyond Katara’s limits, “This war is far from over. It will never be over until we win.”

“You know something,” Sokka responded with slight disdain, “That’s the first smart thing you’ve said all night. Let’s go burn your papers.”


	7. Sokka

Sokka

Ten minutes later, after a thunderous chaos of preparation, they were a group of at least fifteen boys and girls all shuffling towards the back of the room. Jet, Sokka and Katara made their way out last, up the narrow stairway that opened into the neighboring building on the other side of the alley. When Sokka looked around the quiet hallway, he saw doors and stairs leading to little apartments. The door they had left from had the signs ‘Fuse Box’ and ‘High Voltage’ bolted onto it.

They made their way through the backdoor of that building to the alley behind the Jasmine Dragon and all the other shops and houses on the avenue. The group scattered rapidly. They looked like a spread of shadows flashing down the street. Sokka had always admired how silent these idealistic idiots could be. They definitely mastered the art of shutting up, something they obviously had not learned from Jet. Sokka had never met someone so talkative during combat as that half-wit.

They moved through the night all the way to the end of the backstreet and neared the lights of the open road. Sokka turned to Katara. She nodded, jumping as she ran and began to slide across the pavement as if it were covered in ice. Fog invaded the street, surrounding the group, excluding those who had jumped to the rooftops or walls.

“The quickest way will be underground,” whispered Jet, “Until we hit the Inner Wall, then we just have to climb.”

“Yeah,” jeered Sokka, “since you decided to bring the whole damn cavalry, we can’t take the train like normal people.”

Jet snickered, “Normal people ride the train on the inside. And don’t stress, they’ll be helpful.”

Sokka was no calmer than before. When they reached another manhole into the pipes, Sokka noticed the words carved into the top.

“Jet, this isn’t a storm drain.”

“What’s the matter, Moonchild, afraid of the smell?”

Sokka would have turned himself if he could get the chance to murder Jet. He was so sure that even the Fire Nation would understand and let him go about the rest of his day.

“Look,” Jet grunted as he struggled to pull off the lid, “This way is much faster than any storm drain. And anyway, we're gonna have to get out to jump the wall into the Upper Ring so it doesn’t really matter.”

Sokka pushed Jet out of the way to fit his own sword into the crack and tipped up the lid with ease. He felt Jet watching his arms as he popped it up.

“Don’t do that,” he ordered.

“Do what?” Jet always loved to play the idiot he didn’t think he was.

“One thing,” Sokka inquired as all the little fighters jumped into the manhole and down to the muck, “Which ‘old friend’ am I serving tonight?”

Jet cleared his throat, “What?”

“You said this was a favor for an old friend. What old friend?”

“Oh- well...”

“Jet?” said Sokka in a cautious, dangerous tone.

“Well there’s a crime family, the Mao Yi, turns out you’re not the only one who owes a few favors.”

“You failed to mention this while Katara and I were discussing organised crime to you ourselves,” Sokka sighed, staring down the pit.

“Seriously, Jet, you could’ve just said it. You are not the one who should have trust issues out of the three of us,” said Katara while concentrating on keeping up her fog.

“So what? They have a file in there? And we’re going all this way to burn it?”

“No, no,” assured Jet, “Come on guys, that’s just the side job. The moment the Mao Yi gave me all this intel, well, how was I supposed to say no? It’s the perfect mission and everyone can benefit from it.”

“Even mob bosses. What a score.” Sokka was too exhausted to be amused. A few months ago, he had quickly discovered that insomnia did not directly translate to energetic. Although, depending on the moon phase, he found himself to have an incredible amount of stamina no matter how worn out he was feeling.

Jet’s humor always tired him out the most. It was the infuriation and shame it brought him that tipped Sokka over the edge every time. It was so cocky and weightless. Nothing he said held importance or meant anything at all. It reminded him of Sokka. It was so reminiscent of a young arrogance that used to slow him down. Jet couldn’t get over his incessant victory over death and neither could Sokka for a very long time. It was now his greatest shame. The only comedy left in him was so angry that it wasn’t worth sharing. Not that there was much else to share with Jet but anger.

They flew through the sewer with great speed. There was no point in staying there any longer than need be. The reeking smells of the middle class were more than invasive. Everything and anything wafted down the shallow canals. Those who could, stuck to the walls and the ceiling. Katara floated above everything, leading the way at the front of the group. Sokka was in the middle and Jet fell to the back with Longshot, keeping an eye on their backs.

Then it happened. The loudest noise they had heard all night. A bang so loud it shook the walls but in a single instant it was finished. The echo induced anxiety to the highest degree but the initial sound was enough to stop a heart.

Katara stopped dead in her tracks at the noise. She had halted at a crossroads. They had been much too loud and now they were paying a price. She held her fist up and motioned for everyone to move back. They all scattered to the walls, those on the ceiling creeping a few steps back. Sokka however sprinted directly towards her. Katara flushed all the water from the floor around them and the two ducked to the ground.

“Freeze them,” whispered Sokka.

“I don’t even know where they are!” hissed Katara.

“Yes, you do,” before Katara could argue he patted his hand into a little puddle on the ground, “They’re in the water too.”

A moment of hesitation remained and Katara squeezed her eyes shut. Sokka took out a knife and put it to the floor. It would have probably worked on the walls but here, the water interfered with any vibrations.

Katara’s eyes burst open. Sokka could feel the fear in them.

“They’re everywhere, Sokka!”

He took her arm and breathed deeply, waiting for her to join him. She slowly shut her eyes again and lay her cheek on the filthy cement floor. Sokka didn’t let go.

He noticed the little puddle was vibrating vigorously. Above him, he saw a few of the kids watch in awe as small streams of water worked their way upwards and around the tunnel, towards the noise of whoever was coming close.

The puddle then softened until it was perfectly still. The arm that Sokka was holding shot out of his grasp and reached out in front of them. Katara’s eyes were fiercely concentrated on something Sokka could not see.

There were screams, crashing waves, the cracking of ice and a few muffled cries.

“Is that all of them?” he asked.

“Not even close. The sewers are full of them, at least 100 in this district. We were lucky to be missing them for this long, the wall’s only five minutes away.”

“Katara, you’re amazing,” marveled Sokka in a stoic manner.

It was enough for her.

They got up and both motioned for the team to keep moving forward. They all sprung into a silent action; sprinting, swinging or jumping past. As they ran, Sokka took a moment to look at who had been on the other side of the tunnel. There they stood: two men, perfectly preserved in ice, most likely dying or unconscious by now. They wore full body armor and each held a semi-automatic rifle. They wore masks over a full black bodysuit that were painted red but had night vision goggles and horrible little slits for the nose and mouth.

It would most likely be days until they were found, their deaths beyond explicable.

Katara tugged at her brother’s arm and they ran off to join the rest. Minutes later, they arrived at a dead end with stairs leading up to a small platform. On it, was a rusty ladder and a large door in the ceiling.

A few peaked their heads around the entrance to watch the damp little room. The entrance and platform was guarded by two men and the rest of the room had tables with radios, monitors. The soldiers sitting at the computers seemed slightly panicked. Sokka was sure that had something to do with their two disappearing guards. Perhaps they would be found sooner than he expected.

Sokka motioned to Katara from the other side of the entrance and she nodded. He ordered the rest of the group to clear away and watched as Katara slowly summoned a ferocious wave of gutter water to blast into the room. The computers and such were surely ruined and the guards thoroughly incapacitated. The pack rushed in after the flooding subsided and quickly disposed of the ones that were unlucky enough to stay awake.

One by one, everybody single-filed out the exit and each began their way climbing over the wall. It was the most dangerous part of the job. Not only would the wall mean exposure but for also an extended period of time.

“This could take forever, or just get us killed,” said Katara worriedly, “I should just take the water and push us up.”

“No,” objected Sokka, “That’ll be even more conspicuous than climbing. There are too many watchtowers and their field of vision is way too good to not see that coming. It’s too big and loud, especially if you use ice.”

“Sokka, I can get us there! And much faster.”

Sokka looked up. They were the only two left.

“I know you can. But it’s not much of a debate anymore, look.” He pointed and, as Katara sighed at all the others already making good progress up the colossal fortress, she gave in and pulled water solely around herself while Sokka dug his boots into the seams of a large metal column protruding from the concrete wall.

They did not stop for even a moment. Katara sped past the rest and jumped onto the top of the wall. Minutes later, when Sokka and the first of Jet’s boys arrived under the closest watchtower, they noticed a shattered window. He saw bunches of slumped soldiers resting in awkward and painful positions all over the room. Water was visibly dripping from the windows. Sokka realised that the passage between watch rooms was inside the wall- directly below them- making it safe to jump over for now.

The top of the wall was open to the windy air but deserted. Weapon mounts and supply crates had all been emptied, some replaced with Fire Nation resources. There seemed to be no interest in protecting the inner walls as there was little anticipation for a counter attack of any kind. That left the watchtowers as their only obstacle. Once everyone had arrived and the first climbers started making their way silently down the other side of the wall, Sokka looked to the next watchtower at least a hundred meters away. He saw only a figure in a mist filled room. It was so opaque that there was nothing to see but the red from the lights inside the room. Then, he saw his sister break out a window on the other side of the wall and leap out, water and mist trailing behind her.

Sokka grinned handsomely.

He was always impressed by his sister. Ever since Jang Hui, the competition had become as heated as one might imagine between superhuman siblings. Sokka sprinted and jumped off the side of the fortified wall to join her.

Jet whispered after him but nothing could be done. Sokka was arcing down like diving into water. Once in position, he slashed out his black, sleek straight sword and stabbed it into the wall. It slid into the concrete like it was made of cotton. The friction was enough to bring him to a full stop and Sokka was left with a few meters from the ground. He unsheathed his sword from the wall and flipped onto one foot, kneeling lightly on the hard stone floors.

Those waiting at the bottom stared at the pair in utter awe. What Sokka had done was unbelievable but what Katara had been doing all night was simply impossible.

“And that,” said Jet, bringing up the rear of the group, “Is why they tagged along, kids.”

“Just get us into this building so we can burn your stupid files. I’m starving and I want to sleep,” snapped Sokka.

“I do not doubt that at all,” muttered Jet. He began to sprint ahead of them, keeping to the dark walls of the backstreets. The buildings near the wall were always the poorest. It only got harder from here.


	8. Suki

Suki

Suki wanted a garden like that of this house. In a way, she supposed, there was no need to desire it any longer. The family who lived in this house was long gone. Nobody was coming back to Ba Sing Se now. She had more than enough time and even if they did show up Suki could easily disappear without a trace.

She sat on the patio overlooking the garden. There was a cherry tree in the centre and around the border was a little stream with a pond in the corner. The yard was not very large, townhouses never were, but on the inside it was more than spacious. Suki was not used to such luxurious distractions. Her bed was soft and the house eerily lonesome. She got the feeling that, despite the five bedrooms, nobody had ever loved in this house.

She checked her watch: three minutes to two. The sun would be up before she knew it. She would need to remember to close the blinds before crashing again. Making her way back inside, Suki took her glass of wine and walked up three floors to the top of the house. There, she made her way to the other side of the master bedroom and out into the balcony overlooking the garden. One minute to two. In a moment, a quiet commotion on the roof tiles would be heard and this night's work would be soon complete.

Suki was more excited to see Kai than she had realised. It would be so normal for a single moment. Ten seconds, the pitter patter above her head had begun.

A softer smile fell upon her face. A large thud and someone landed on the balcony beside her.

Suki turned. “Hi,” she beamed at her visitor.

The older man grinned a kind and silly grin, “Hey, Suki. Boy, am I lucky to see you!”

“I know the feeling. Did you bring me a house warming gift?”

“Did I! Look at this shit, Sooks!” He handed her a large cylinder and a folder wrapped in paper. 

Suki took them both excitedly and walked over to the balcony table to sit down with her new presents. She began to open everything up and ponder over all the documents and pictures.

“Kai, this is fucking incredible, thank you.”

“No problem, Sooks. It was actually a million times easier than you’d think. Those little Nation bastards are way in over their heads with the treasure trove of intel they got their hands on. I bet their officers haven’t told them about half the juicy shit they got their hands on.”

“I bet,” she agreed without breaking concentration. The cylinder held maps and floor plans of a very specific location to Suki’s interest. The files held a plethora of interesting facts: names, places, dates. They all had two things in common, repeating the same two words: Kyoshi, Dai Li. Again and Again. 

“What’s all this for, Hun? I really couldn’t figure it out. You won’t hate me for peeking right?” Kai had a massive grin on his face and his eyes were filled with energy.

“No, Kai, you’re good,” chuckled Suki, “It just means it’s time for the old makeup to make a comeback.”

Kai giggled deeply, “Holy shit, honey, you’re drivin’ me crazy. I can’t wait to tell your folks you're still on the same two feet,” He playfully shifted his feet into a dramatic fighting stance and put his fists up high.

Suki snorted, “Yeah, make sure they know nothing’s changed. That’ll keep them quiet for a while at least.”

“That’s right. They miss ya, Sooks, they really do. But I’ll try and keep ‘em outta your way for the time being. I don’t doubt you’ll be back in the farms soon.”

“Are you kidding, Kai? I’m begging for any stupid spirit that’ll listen to me to send me back as soon as I can. But this work really can’t wait.”

“Oh I know, missy, I know.” he looked at her with such serenity. Suki could tell he was struggling between seeing the little girl that ran born and raised in a farmhouse and the woman sitting in front of him planning covert espionage, “Well,  _ madame _ , I best be on my way! There's a long fight ahead of you, I’m sure, but I’ll keep the homefront safe for ya.”

“There’s no better way to have it, Kai. You’re always better at having our backs.”

There were no more words. He leapt up onto the side of the roof and sprinted away into the darkness.

She stared at the pages in front of her. She was so close. Besides the army, the Warriors were the first and hardest obstacle in Ba Sing Se’s arsenal. That and the fact that they protected only farmers and workers meant the Dai Li were more than interested in Suki and the girls. It was safe to say that one of their agents would be watching from a safe distance even as the tanks and troops stampeded over their homes. 

Suki packed up her papers and walked back inside. She slid the door shut behind her and walked slowly down the stairs to the smaller bedroom where she prefered to sleep. Before taking her robe off and resting for the night, she slid the papers under her pillow. When she lied down under the covers, she put the cylinder between her legs and held it close. Suki thought for the next night. When she woke up, she would plan all day, studying the maps and learning everything about her next target. Tomorrow, it would finally be time to put the armor on again after weeks of it waiting idly in the basement, hidden under boxes.

Tomorrow, she would break into the Dai Li headquarters and find every piece of intelligence she could on the Kyoshi Warriors.


	9. Sokka

Sokka

The Dai Li compound was crawling with agents and officials but they soon discovered that, besides the guards, most of them were not competent enough to spot any of them. As soon as they creeped their way over the little wall and petty barbed wire, the rest was easy: spread thin to keep out of sight and regroup in the basement.

Sokka had forced Jet to take another route, splitting him off from himself and Katara. Jet had insisted they needed someone to show them the way in so Sokka defiantly chose Longshot to watch their backs. He sheepishly agreed and took to the opposite side of the wall. So the three of them, silent as ever, were creeping behind a truck in the parking lot. They inched their way towards an entrance. Sokka could see silhouettes of his accomplices jumping in to enter through the roof of the building while others snuck in by means of the side doors.

Katara tapped him on the shoulder to signal to him: she spread out her hands and a very cool haze began to fill the air. ‘They’ll notice’ mouthed back Sokka, aggressively. She shook her head. When he looked out onto the courtyard and the parking area, everything was being lost behind the haze.

The compound itself was impressive. The buildings surrounding the walled off area were short and got progressively taller closer to the centre. The buildings inside the protected zone were very fancy. The glass exterior was a tricky facade once you realised there was really nothing to see but more walls. The extravagant glass structures surrounded the more brutalist cement block in the middle of it all. That was the target.

There: an opening. He motioned to the others and they all bolted for a door masked in shadows. The door itself was missing. The hinges were bent and twisted and the entire frame was scarred with ash. The Fire Nation must have breached the door to get in days ago and the Dai Li obviously gave them quite the fight. A newer addition to the scene were the two guards on duty slumped against the wall where they stood. 

They ran inside, quietly sprinting through the glass corridors and into ones with more cover. Once they were protected by real walls Longshot began to walk ahead. The siblings followed behind. His old wooden bow was battered from wear but ready with an arrow at all times. Longshot’s face always reminded Sokka of that bow: poised and tense, ready to pounce.

They moved silently through the halls, melting into the shadows whenever somebody walked by. A few areas were left thoroughly dark as the lights in the ceiling had been blown out. In many of the corridors, there were bullet holes in every surface. The ones with functioning lights were just a matter of timing and speed. 

Finally, they reached a door to the fire exit, close to the main staircase but much more discreet. The three were staring out into the lobby, instead of into the stairway. Sokka’s heart almost stopped as they froze in front of another group of three. They stared at each other for a moment like terrified animals.

“You bastards almost scared us to death!” They were obviously with Jet but Sokka was in no mood for such things tonight and he made that very clear as the now group of six sprinted down the stairs to the farthest basement.

They were one floor away from their target when, behind them, they heard a door open. Sokka casually turned around to bully whichever new group was joining them to come faster when he realised they weren’t so lucky this time.

A man in a white lab coat and a tablet in hand stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed what insanity was happening to be running down the stairs at that very moment. He stared into Sokka with the widest eyes. Sometimes, he forgot how truly intense the face paint was. 

The young lady to Sokka’s right pulled out a handgun, Longshot aimed his readied arrow at the man and Katara began preparing dangerously large shards of ice in midair. The man simply froze as the door locked behind him.

A minute later, Sokka was checking through the window of the Basement Level 3 door as the handgun lady and his friend were clumsily dragging the poor man’s unconscious body down the stairs. Sokka and Katara were unrecognisable, the Freedom Fighters and Longshot didn’t mind being seen as they were barely in public anyway and the man was most likely going to suffer from major amnesia after the blow he had suffered from Sokka’s boomerang.

Sokka watched as Jet and another girl took out two armed guards and an officer on the other side of the very large lobby. They seemed to be untroubled by leaving the bodies on the floor so Sokka suspected the coast to be sufficiently clear.

He signalled to Longshot and he opened the door as the rest ran out in single file. Katara waved widely over to Jet’s group. They stopped and waited for Sokka’s group to join them.

“Nice to see you all in one piece,” greeted Jet in a soft growl, “Any trouble?”

“Yeah,” complained Sokka, “one of those weirdo scientists snuck up on us but he’s sleeping under the stairs right now.”

“Damn, Sokka, not like you to get caught.”

Sokka was already moving ahead before Jet even finished. Longshot followed at his side, directing him.

“Let’s go Katara,” said Jet softly, he placed a hand on her arm and walked her in the opposite direction, “let your boys take care of the server room while we take the archives.”

“No. You need one hand for a light and gasoline, Fly Boy, Katara and I are going together. We can go to either room but we go together.” Sokka did not ask. He walked over and placed his own hand on Jet’s grabbing arm.

Katara’s face blushed a fiery red, “Sokka, I’m not-.” She put her hand on Sokka’s shoulder and walked past both him and Jet, “I don’t need my hand held.”

“Katara! Come on-” he attempted.

“I’ll see you after!” yelled Katara determinantly.

Jet did not argue but seemed a bit surprised by Sokka’s harsh response. Better for him. Sokka’s every muscle was pushing him to fight with Katara but his heart was shouting louder. Don’t hurt, don’t lose more than you already have. It felt strange to hear that since it could be taken either way: be scared or strong.

By that moment, the entire group had arrived and began separating between the two hallways. At the far end of the lobby there was a T-junction where the corridors split in two directions. A sign on the wall read ‘B 3: Intelligence’ and under it the list of areas: ‘Documental Archive, Database Servers, Casefile Submission, Information Acquisition, Laogai Project, Employee Records’.

The group made their way hastily towards the server room. They came across a few guards but made no effort to hide themselves this time. They began to pick up speed, just running over anyone in their way. It was clear that their cover really wasn’t worth much anymore since within the next ten minutes every alarm in the building would be triggered for any number of reasons. Hopefully by then they would be very close to the exit.

When Sokka and the rest arrived at the dim lit server rooms, his heart felt even more on edge than usual. He was so far from Katara and so close to the night being finished. Everything felt wrong.

The Freedom Fighters got to work shuffling around him. Molotov cocktails, explosive packs and all manner of dangerous little trinkets were slipped out from anywhere they could be concealed.

Some of the younger rascals held less dangerous weapons. They took to the walls with graffiti and knives. They picked apart the stacks of servers, ripping cables and pulling out hard disks. Sokka was frozen in awe at the chaotic sight in front of him. He could barely contain his rage. Their merry little band of pyromaniacs were taking their sweet time making a mess of the room for simply the sake of it. Sokka felt like the charge of seven toddlers had been given to him with also a bunch of explosives. 

He strided over to Longshot who was sticking inconspicuous devices to the back wall and grabbed him by the shoulder.

“What the hell are they doing?” he demanded, “We need to get out of here! Now, Longshot!”

His face said ‘sorry’ but Sokka didn’t really feel it since the boy made no effort to hurry up his process.

When Sokka turned around, he watched as a girl walked over to the fire alarm and smashed it with her wooden bat. The alarm responded with equal aggression. The sirens flared and some of the boys squealed and whooped as the sprinklers doused them and their presence was made known.

Sokka froze in the middle of the panorama of pandemonium that surrounded him. He didn’t know what else to do so he simply started running. He ran out the door and back to the main stairway. By the time he reached it, he heard a tremendous boom from behind him. He turned and watched in dismay as most of his supposedly abandoned group was actually hot on his heels. They didn’t stop screaming and laughing, the fire alarm girl was drawing a line of bright orange spray paint across the wall as she ran for her life.

Sokka’s heart jumped into itself as he heard the first rapid snaps of bullets and watched a young man at the back of the troupe collapse to the ground while his eyes shot wide open in shock. The older children and Longshot prepared their weapons as they came into the main open room with the stairs. Soldiers and agents began appearing in little groups through every direction. They were mostly on the main stairs but quickly began arriving from the fire exits that were originally the entrance escape route. The soldiers behind them were quickly dealt with. They were no match for the Fighters but in larger numbers they would have the upper hand.

From the other hallway, in the direction of the archives and Katara, shots began ringing down the corridor. A moment later, Sokka watched as three soldiers appeared from around the corner, flying through the air as they were each skewered into the wall by massive thorns of ice.

Soon after, Katara and the rest appeared. His sister looked about as pissed as he was. Jet looked about as entertained as usual. He was making very liberal use of two handguns, wildly firing behind him, and turning around to ready himself for the next assault.

“Jet, you asshole!” screamed Sokka. The T-junction had a wide entrance into the open area ahead, requiring him to shout of the sound of attempted murder by a foreign power, “If you survive, the last thing you’ll hear is me saying ‘I told you’!”

“What part of this could you possibly have predicted?” responded Jet in an amused cackle.

“The part where you’re an asshole!” screamed Katara directly into Jet ear to make sure Sokka heard. Her face was not as amusing. It looked, for the most part, like she was having a small breakdown.

“That, yes, and we ‘were all gonna die tonight’ was pretty obvious. Especially since we chose to spend it with you dicks!” Sokka was running out of insults to use on him.

Jet had had his fun, “Alright. We gotta keep moving! Let’s push forward.”

“Are you equal parts insane and annoying? Let’s go back and find another way out.”

“Nah, they’re all dead ends. It’s a basement, you know? Why do you think there’s nobody new shooting at your ass?”

Sokka realised that there was very little fresh opposition coming from either corridors. It was forward and die or just die.

“I don’t know guns! No blade is taking out these psychos,” Shouted Sokka. He refused to be left behind tonight. He needed to prove Jet thoroughly wrong without ‘I owe you’s or ‘I saved you’s this time. 

“That’s fine, Moonbabe!” Jet smirked and signaled to those on Sokka’s side and on his own, “Let us take it from here!”

Sokka saw a little flicker of light behind Jet but jumped back before knowing what it was as something flew by his face. He looked out into the lobby and watched an eruption of flames stretch across the centre staircase. The little flicker on the other side of the entrance grew and Sokka watched one man throw another Cocktail out into the room.

The bright light flared up a second time.

“How many more times can we use that trick?” mocked Sokka.

“Not many, I’m afraid,” yelled Jet plainly, “Time for the nuclear option.” He grinned violently and turned to Katara. Sokka rolled his eyes so dramatically it hurt him a bit.

Katara was unimpressed with being dragged along as the janitor. Sokka could tell in the way she sulked as she drew the water out of the little sac strapped to her side. At the far end, the three impaled men dropped from the wall to the ground as the ice supporting their limp bodies was now liquid. It rushed through the air to attend its master. Katara took a deep breath and stood up. The water flew out in the middle of the entrance before she did. It froze into a concaved shield a few inches taller than her. She leaped out of the way and into its protection. 

In a split second, Sokka decided to follow suit. He rolled over to her as she began to make slow progress forward. He stood up, back to back with her as they walked in unison, him in reverse. The shooting had subsided slightly as Katara made her entrance, most likely out of awe to what the soldiers themselves were witnessing. They had definitely never trained for this.

But it was short lived. And slowly but surely the rate at which they fired picked up by the second. Sokka could hear the ice crack behind him and Katara grunting as she repaired the seams in her shield. With every step, he could smell the smoke and fire reach closer to them.

All he needed was closer quarters and even rifles wouldn’t be enough for him. 

Then it began. Just thinking it summoned a will that he didn’t have a moment before. The humming, the buzzing. It grew louder and louder. The ringing wouldn’t stop its little whispers, just strong enough to notice.

“Sokka! Now please?”

He snapped back and without action his sword and a smaller blade were in his hands. He spun around, exposing himself to three troops directly in front of them. Immediately, He leaped onto them, throwing his knife into the middle man’s chest and running blade-first into the one on his left. The last man had seconds to react and he lost them quickly. As he aimed his barrel, Sokka was already kicking the rifle out of his hand with tremendous force, spinning around to kick him once again in the face. The metal helmet covering his face dented painfully, wounding him enough to keep him down.

Sokka turned, there were few targets left of the original group but new ones rushed down the stairs from above. Jet’s kids began to creep forward into the lobby. Katara charged up the stairs, taking the lead. Sokka followed close behind, leaving the rest to the stragglers. It was too dangerous to take the fire stairs now; they would be cut off and bottlenecked in seconds.

He watched as Jet high kicked into one man’s face, sending him vaulting backwards. He stepped on his chest and shouted, “Suck my dick, scum!” matching the volume of his pistol as it fired three bullets into his victims face.

“That’s the fucking Freedom Fighters, ass!” screamed the Molotov boy at the limp corpse. Sokka turned away quickly and concentrated on Katara. 

She was making good progress up the steps but her ice was slowly arching over her head, engulfing her as more and more Fire Nation agents appeared, surrounding the stairs from the second basement landing. They fired down on them from all sides.

Sokka sprinted towards the railing on the right side, pouncing onto it and jumping upwards, catching the edge of the landing above. He swung his body up in a circle, landing precariously on the edge that he was previously holding with his hands, gripping intensely on the rail for dear life.

As he hurdled over the rail, his first leg made heavy contact with the barrel of the rifle closest to him. One moment it was a meter from his face and the next it was dropping to the ground. He grabbed the man by his neck. Some of his more agitated comrades shot at Sokka, hitting the man in his headlock. As a few more came closer to him, Sokka backed up to the wall with the increasingly heavy body he held. As one of the agents in nothing but a black suit came close, holding a pistol, he tossed the body with all his strength at her. It barely occupied her for a moment but it was enough for Sokka to take out his sword once more. When the woman looked up, she had Sokka’s face inches from hers and his blade clean through her gut.

Sokka heard a very distinct noise followed by even more commotion and much less gunfire. He looked up to see the rest of the assailants on the opposite side of the landing and in front of Katara be thrown backwards, impacting on the walls, by a rapid wave that burst out from her as quickly as it returned. Sokka turned to finish off the last two that remained on his side of the stairs. Before he could even meet them, two loud, precise bangs exploded and the pair crumpled to the ground without a fight. Sokka turned to see Jet standing at the top of the stairs, smirking triumphantly.

“Those were mine,” growled Sokka.

“Gotta be faster!” laughed Jet. He comically blew at the barrel of both his handguns, “You like ‘em? Type 92’s, semi-automatics.”

“A gift from the Mao Yi?” asked Sokka, unimpressed.

“Nah, these are military. Stole ‘em a few weeks ago.”

Sokka frowned and looked down to the woman he had run down previously. A few inches from her hand lay an identical copy of the two in Jet’s hands.

“You dickhead. Just so you know, it’s a firm yes on the ‘goodbye’.”

Jet’s face dropped, “Sokka, come on. We’re doing great,” he chortled nervously.

“You’re crazy gang of dumbasses almost got us killed like five times.”

“That’s exactly why you’re here! I told you Mao Yi was the side mission, a little extra cash! The real shit was making ourselves known. Letting those Nation bastards know we’re still here, remember? ‘The war’s not over till we win’?”

To prevent another self obsessive remark, Sokka turned his back and followed Katara up the stairs to the first basement. There were two staircases, one on each side of the last. It made it quite easy this time to surround the large group of assailants coming down the stairs from the ground floor, leaving just a few that were coming from the other hallways on this floor. The next part was the hardest: leaving the building and then the compound. Then the wall. Sokka almost ran his own blade through himself just thinking of the rest of the night ahead of them.

“You know what? This is over. Everyone for themselves. Katara, we’re getting out of her and we're taking the train home. Let these idiots climb the wall.”

“S- Sokka, we can’t leave them! Don’t be shitty!” Katara did not look impressed but it did take a moment of hesitation for her to scold him.

“We don’t really have a choice right now,” he shouted, motioning towards the growing number of rifles being pointed at them from the top of the stairs, “But the moment we do, I’m out. And you’re not leaving me this time.”

Katara glared at him. She said nothing but her body was more than furious. She waved her hands in a circle, venting out all her aggression into compressing all the water in the room into one big sphere. It began to shake violently. The water could not contain itself, small arcs burst out and fell back in like solar flares on the sun’s surface. 

Finally, when it could get no smaller, when the mass of enemies in front of them could get no larger, when Jet shouted ‘empty’ and other voices followed ‘empty’, when the soldiers began to march down the stairs and the Freedom Fighters began to creep back down where they had come from and behind them and more and more agents appeared from every door and hallway, it exploded. The seering sound of steam invaded the air. A grey, wet stream broke out from Katara with gargantuan size and speed, breaking through the ranks above, sending some of them along with the jet of boiling water, crashing through the glass walls of the front door. Some soldiers who remained conscious were left screaming in pain.

As the water jet burst out for several moments, Katara's dress flared up around her in the wind she had created, like a brilliant array of feathers. Her veil flew up over the top of her hat and her eyes were filled with power. 

Sokka could not look away. The murmur, it was screaming. It could feel the Tide. The Pull. The noise pushed on his head. It called for something. Then, everything was impossibly quiet. There was nothing left but that chattering murmur. 

But it was cut short. Sokka winced as he felt a clanging vibration run through his arm and across the rest of his body. He turned to look at his outstretched arm. His sword was extended outwards.

A bullet shattered on the ground to his side. It had ricocheted off his sword and splintered on the floor. For the second time, Sokka had drawn his weapon unconsciously. This little trick was proving to be quite useful. But the cost of losing all consciousness in the middle of combat was a little too on the edge, even for him. Although the wide eyed stare of utter fascination from Jet was enough to wake his ego up from whatever daze had infected him.

There were only a few stumbling survivors left after Katara’s final word. That’s a good name for that move, though Sokka, better not forget it. They all sprinted up the last flight of stairs into the wreck that was the front lobby. The glass facade was shattered and the cement walls and floors were drenched. The Last Word had made its way up the stairs and directly through the wall, spraying outside on the yard. Katara made a large parting motion with her hands and the water slid to both sides, leaving a path to where the door used to be. The air was heavy with the humidity of success. Their attackers were sprawled on the ground in the dozens, their armour, clothes or skin steaming and burnt.

Sokka led the team out the doors with Katara to his right. They skipped to a grinding halt a few steps out into the yard when three blinding floodlights were pointed directly at them. Sokka and Katara bowed their heads and turned slightly, hiding behind their hood or veil.

The silhouettes appeared before them. New gunmen were jumping the wall. Sokka counted at least twenty but it was definitely more than they could take.

“We don’t have enough ammo for all those bastards,” said Jet with new found anxiety in his tone. He and Sokka turned to Katara.

“I don’t know If I can make a shield quickly enough,” she confessed, “The water’s all over the floor and bullets are way faster.”

“What about a mist cloud?” experimented Jet, “That way you don’t have to move it? Just evaporate it where it is.”

“Still. Maybe the kids at the back can make it but all of us outside will get shot before we can back up into it. And fog can’t stop bullets.”

“And I am not dying on this stupid night,” declared Sokka. 

“No damn way,” snorted Katara.

A voice shook the ground, “Put down your weapons and place your hands on your head. This is the Fire Nation Special Forces. You are under arrest.”

Sokka’s brain was frozen. The humming had gone at the most inconvenient moment. He looked up. The sky was clouded and the morning light was appearing anyway. It wasn’t his time. They slowly put their hands high in the air.

“That’s not good. I’d rather get shot than tortured for info.”

“Nobody asked you, Jet,” snarled Sokka, “Katara? I love you,” 

“Please don’t ever talk that way to me, Sokka.” Katara looked straight forwards, her face was drawn with worry and stress. But Sokka saw something more.

“Sokka?” whispered Katara.

“Katara?”

“There are two cars outside, parked in front of the building.”

Sokka contorted his face in confusion, “How do you know that?”

Then she told him. She raised both her arms in the air but in a strange, tense sort of way. A loud roar from over the wall filled the pitch black air. The flood lights revealed nothing. But from their side, Sokka could see a massive bulky shape careening through the sky. Then another. The soldiers all turned to the sound.

Sokka took that as their cue and grabbed Katara’s arm tightly, she grabbed him back with her other hand. They rushed off towards the back wall at a powerful speed. The rest of the group scattered like rats in every other direction.

Two massive black cars came crashing down onto the lawn like meteors, flattening anyone in its way. The horrible water that had burst out of the sewers like a geyser was now spraying all over the yard. 

Sokka felt as water engulfed both his legs and felt himself vaulting over the few meters of walling and over into the street outside. There were more than enough soldiers out in the road as well but they had the element of surprise. They rushed over to the open manhole that Katara had made good use of and disappeared from view.


	10. Katara

Katara

Katara’s legs hurt. The moment she pounded on the bottom of the sewage drain, she knew it would be days until she was emotionally prepared for another night shift. At least Sokka would never go alone so that ruled out any danger in missing out.

They had to duck when sprinting through the tunnel. It was so small, not like the ones in the other Rings. The pain in her legs refused to be neglected. Her calves, the balls of her feet, every bone. It was all so tired and cracked.

She pushed on. Sokka was close behind, cursing Jet and his ridiculous plan to kingdom come. Katara heard shouting behind them. They were definitely going to be followed at least until the Wall. Katara’s final trick was all she had left in her. Pushing that much water out of the gutter with just a single hand movement was torture alone. All she had was the energy to run away.

She decided to take a few random turns to confuse her attackers but ultimately she had to stick to the northbound tunnels.

“We need to find the train-”

“I know what I’m doing, Sokka” snapped Katara.

“What, oh, now  _ you’re _ angry?” he asked with disbelief.

“Keep your voice down. You know we’re trying to escape, not find more people?” she whispered angrily.

Suddenly, a person appeared out of the darkness in front of them. Out of the tunnel to their side, was Longshot staring directly into them.

“Goddammit, Longshot!” yelled Katara, almost in tears. This entire night of insanity needed to be purged from her memory if she was ever to survive it.

“Yeah, Longshot, quit following us we’re trying to ‘escape’!” mocked Sokka.

Longshot put a finger on his mouth.

“Where is Jet.” he stated. It took Katara a moment to understand that it was a question and not a declaration.

“Jet? I- I thought he would be with you?” asked Katara with perplexity but also just fear.

“He’s not with us. I think he went another way,” whispered Sokka.

Longshot stared at the ground in a way that made Katara feel so sorry for him. 

“Longshot, go back to the Dragon. Wait there and see-” She was cut short by him shaking his head. Don’t go to the Dragon. Don’t go to the Dragon. Don’t go to the Dragon.

“He’s right,” agreed Sokka, “they could be waiting for us there if they figure out who we are.”

Katara rolled her eyes, “Wow, who gave you a P.I. license?”

Sokka did nothing but glare. Longshot touched her shoulder gently and stared into her eyes. Katara could feel a deep patience in them. 

Wait for me, they begged, wait and I’ll find you.

The silence was shattered by splashing and shouting from behind them. As it echoed down the dirty halls, Longshot disappeared back down the tunnel he came from, pointing in the direction opposite from him. Katara looked down that tunnel. It went slightly upwards.

She jumped into action and began climbing up it. 

“What did you mean ‘Oh, you’re angry’?” She couldn’t help herself.

There was a quiet beat and then, “Wha- oh my god. Are you serious? Now?”

“Well?” she hissed.

“You! Miss ‘I’m all grown now I can take care of myself’! Little Miss ‘I don’t need basic support because I’m such a badass’.”

Katara could feel her face flushing and the words boiling in her mouth but something in her head clicked and instead she just laughed.

“Sokka I can move water with my mind.”

“See, I hear ‘I can move water’ but it’s coming out like ‘I’m immortal’.”

Katara was losing all patience, “Sokka, I’m not fucking invincible but I’m also not a baby! Just back off me for once. Let me breathe for shit’s sake!”

“Whatever.”

“Yeah.”

They kept crawling until they reached a large enough grate to punch open and slip out of. They had to be quick, Katara was in no mood for more mist.

The rest of the night was quiet. They sat on the top of the monorail, their legs swinging over the edge as they stared out to the Inner Ring. The lights were dim and kind. The glow of the now much larger fire from the Dai Li Headquarters was slightly more ominous than the rest of the lights. Katara caught Sokka staring at the Royal palace. The Inner ring was small and on a visible incline. The palace was the tallest of monuments in the city and the brightest. 

She sensed there was something more, perhaps he heard that noise in his head again. Katara was prepared to shoot out a swift denial to any further requests of action for tonight but it never came. They were both exhausted and they were both ready for bed. Tomorrow was her day off and she planned to use it wisely in her bed.

“We just blew up a building.”

Katara turned to Sokka, he didn’t look away from the palace, “Yeah.”

She paused, “It was stupid.”

Sokka laughed, “Yeah. Worth it, I think, but stupid as hell.”

Less than an hour later, the pair dropped off the end of the train, balancing on the rail and made their way down to the street level. They walked lazily back to the apartment and most definitely used the elevator. They sat, slumped on the floor, as it carried them up to their door. Katara slipped her key in the lock and slowly opened it.

The television was still playing, Hakoda was still snoring and the world had kept turning. The sky was much lighter now. Katara and Sokka shuffled into her bedroom. She took out the old, battered box and began packing it with all of their clothing and items. Katara produced a pack of makeup wipes and, in a few minutes, any evidence of their having left the house at all was concealed or destroyed.

Katara couldn’t even remember seeing Sokka leave the room. She noticed the light of the dawn invading the window so she drew the blinds, stripped to her underwear and slipped on a hoodie. She lay in bed wide awake. The release of pain from all her muscles and bones was such an aggressive, kind feeling. As the sleep deprivation took over her, she couldn’t help but think of Jet. The news from Longshot filled her with great fear. He was more painful to deal with than her aching body but she simply would not be able to handle losing another person she once knew simply because they knew her. That night, she dreamt of the beach at night. The high tide and the full moon.


	11. Chapter 2: Aang

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI if you already read chapter 2 (ch.11-17) just know i messed up the chapter order and have reverted them on 23 Aug 4:30pm GMT. It might read better now, sorry about that! ( changes included Sokka chapter coming after Zuko and both those chapters coming after Aang 2)

# Chapter 2

## Aang

Aang awoke to someone shaking his shoulder gently. 

“Aang,” whispered a small voice with urgency, “Aang! Wake up, Aang, I need help.”

His eyes opened. A bald man with small beady eyes and a wispy moustache hung over him, staring back into his face. A soft morning light was making its way into the room through the window. Aang sat up and rubbed his eyes.

He looked over to the monk, “Monk Gyatso? Is everything alright?”

“Come, young one, there is a small task we have tonight. More people need our help. And get some clothes on, child!”

Aang rolled his eyes and almost dropped off the side of the bed as he sleepily walked over to his drawer, pulled out a shirt and jogged after Monk Gyatso as he struggled to put it on over his head.

“It’s way too early for exercises,” complained Aang.

“Hush, Aang. This is very serious. Our assistance is needed by one who is in grave danger.” As they walked down the stairs from the dormitories, they met with two more trainees waiting for them at the landing. They walked together into the welcoming hall. It was a long chamber made of stone and painted over with reds and oranges. One end opened into the gardens and the other end was the front door to the monastery. The gardens let in a soft, cool breeze and more of the growing light. The door let in the danger.

A few feet from the large double doors lay three boys. They were about Aang’s age. One of them was sprawled on the stone floors, the other two were bent over him, stripping away his clothes. There was not much left of them, though. They were ripped, tattered and burned. But above all that they were blood drenched. His whole body was. 

“Come, children,” said Gyatso hastily, “Let us work quickly and take this boy to a bed. Chimei,” he turned to one of the trainees, she teared her eyes away from the disquieting scene, “Go get a cot and bring it downstairs.”

“Not to the infirmary?” asked Aang.

“No,” ordered Gyatso clearly, “To the basement stores, hide him behind the flour, yes?”

Aang nodded as all four of the boys picked up the dying man and shuffled him over to the stairs.

Little changes like these were all too common since the war had ended. Every so often, something small and supposedly harmless would change for no reason. ‘Aang forget that nice lady’s name, we don’t need to write it down’, ‘Aang, let’s start taking the back door when we go out’ ‘everyone, we should wear masks when we go out for public work, for safety, of course’. Little white lies caused by much bigger problems. 

It was obvious that whatever happened to cause this boy’s injuries were not to be spoken of or even admitted as fact.

It was more of a challenge to get him down the stairs. He started groaning in a most disturbing manner with every step. They took so long that Chimei had come back with a stretcher and full kitbag before they even finished getting down the stairs. 

“Hurry, children, in no time the others will be waking.”

They settled him in the very back of the storeroom. His noises became louder and he began to shift around slowly. The three of them got to work as Gyatso supervised vigilantly. They cut the clothes of him and began to wipe down the drying blood. There were two bullet holes on the far left side of his chest and one in his arm. The last one had gone directly through, leaving a gruesome wound, bare and hanging open. The chest was cleaner in comparison but that was mostly cosmetic.

Aang and Chimei looked at each other with concern. 

“That’s gonna be a lot of broken ribs,” She whispered.

One of the boys sniffled quietly, staring over the dying man’s face. His face had its own bleeding gash. The quiver on his back and the arrow ends were all stained with blood.

“Let’s just clean and dress for now, he’ll need to be taken to a real hospital tomorrow,” said Aang.

They got to work. They cleaned off his chest with a sponge and dabbed on his open bicep. The boy made terrible noises as they touched his arms. He was not all there but the pain was enough to pull him in and out of consciousness. The other trainee boy kept him clean and cool, swiping away the constant sweat. Gyatso treated the reluctant archer of his face wounds. The other boy that had come with him sat silently in the corner, staring at his friend.

“What on earth were you guys doing to end up like this,” begged Aang.

Gyatso called his name in a warning tone.

The archer looked directly into him. The words were written in his eyes and on his gashed cheek. It was all over his freckled nose and fierce brow. 

Vengeance, Counterattack, Espionage.

There was a moment of silence before Gyatso spoke to the boy, “What of the Jasmine Dragon? Where are you friends?”

The boy remained silent. Gyatso sighed in defeat.

“You poor thing. They truly have taken everything from you, even your youth.”

He turned from the monk and looked at his friend with a confirming face.

Everything.

The rest of the night was silent. Eventually, they had done all they could for him before it was simply out of their hands. The Monks were skilled but they were no medical prodigies. The four Nomads took a moment of silent prayer around the young man. 

The night- or morning- ended and the archer and his friend left solemnly. It was not easy for Gyatso to convince them of doing so. He was so reluctant to leave his friend’s side. He was eventually made to understand that they were in grave danger staying for too long. Gyatso promised to take him to a doctor in a matter of hours. With that the pair left. 

The old monk quietly instructed his students to leave for bed and allow him time to stay the rest of the early morning alone with their patient.

“Rest,” he said, “Tomorrow is as busy as always, now with even more work.”

Now with even more secrets.

The three of them made their way back to their rooms without a word. They were all exhausted and the last few hours could have easily been a dream anyways. 

Aang put himself sideways in his bed with clothing and anxiety still weighing on his body. He sat there, eyes wide, staring at nothing. It really could have been a dream, maybe it was a nightmare or a prediction of the future or an old memory long forgotten. 

But it wasn’t. There was a young boy dying in the dry store and an old monk was praying over his almost-corpse. And he had just been sent to bed to supposedly sleep. 

These days were as strange and as jarring as little secrets and little changes. It was like shifting everything in your room two inches in one direction. There was nothing to see, to notice. But your body made a mess of it all by constantly bumping into the inconsistencies and oddities around the place. Everything was and was not as it should have been. He should have been in bed sleeping and he was in bed and it did feel like he was sleeping. But words were so useless if twisted right.

He could see tomorrow. He could see the next hours, walking down with all his friends down to the dining halls, sitting and quietly staring at his food while the world kept spinning violently around him. He and Chimei would stare at each other, perhaps she would whisper something in concern, they would be discreetly called away by the older monks and the rest of the day would be spent smuggling a man with two bullets and half an arm to find a surgeon.

It was all so off that to Aang it really didn’t matter if he was asleep or not. With this dream or reality, he knew he would wake up tired and go to sleep nearly dead tomorrow.

He rested on his back, stared at the wall and drifted. 

He knew he was looking for something. He was searching inside for that something. He kept imagining it in his head as the image of a solitary storm cloud. Grey, heavy and crackling with lightning. It did not move or rain. It simply stood like a caricature. 

It was there. Aang could feel it. The little storm in his chest. It simply didn’t seem one of those moments where it made itself known.

Now, it lay dormant. Neither was Aang in any physical danger. That was when everything went wrong. Whenever there was an altercation of some sorts. Then, it came like nothing Aang had ever known. Like a force of anger and release.

But tonight, for at least the rest of the morning, it would be silent. Tonight. Aang could rest- awake or not- in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST AANG SCENE!!!! it's slightly broken up into two. he takes care of jet and shit. remember everyone is grown up in this fic. <3 Chimei's name should be (chime) originally but i didn't want the pronunciation to be ambiguous.


	12. Toph

##  Toph

Toph sat in the back of the white four seater, her face and posture as passive as stone. She tipped her head to rest against the window. It was the first movement she had made since leaving class. Words were yet to be used.

She felt the tires against the perfect asphalt and the heat vibrating off of it, melting it in the evening sun. There were very few people out on the street. The whole morning, her mother and father had been arguing as loudly as ever. Poppy didn’t want Toph outside the house with everything that was happening. Lao didn’t want anyone finding out why she didn’t want that. It was the same fight from the day before.

“I refuse to take our daughter to the enemy's front door!” screamed Poppy.

“And if they find out you are terrified of them and that you don’t believe they should be seen around your precious daughter? What then?” he yelled back, “We must save face or everything you fear will come to be!”

There was nothing changed. Everything was the same, the biggest change was less foot traffic and a massive gaping hole in the side of the Inner Wall. Apparently. Toph couldn’t see it. She remembered hearing something during the last night of the war that she suspected to be that breach. She wasn’t exactly sure though.

She had just left her last parent-appointed, prescheduled, preapproved, activity of the day. She had been told politely by Madame Macmu-Ling that she would be contacting her mother after her behaviour in class today. 

They had all been sitting respectfully, listening to each girl’s new poetry from the week. The current activity was improvised haiku. The Five-Seven-Five Society was a very prestigious group for young ladies to be invited into. Toph had obviously been invited numerous times and denied almost every single time. 

But, eventually, it was to be done. Just like with every club and society and group and team and private tutor and teacher and instructor and leader. Toph must have it.

Anyway, Toph was asked to take the stage. She got up and was immediately interrupted by her attendant (and chauffeur and daytime bodyguard), Li Jie, with a stiff hand around hers. She paused in frustration. Toph was angry mostly because she didn’t know why she hadn’t expected it. The surprise pissed her off the most.

It happened every time, every day, a thousand times, yet this time it hurt a lot more. She kept walking. She was escorted to the little step up onto the stage. 

Toph stood, looking at all the pretty little legs and knees on the rough tatami mats and silk cushions. 

“I hate coming here,

My life is useless, stupid,

And I want to…”

She stood there staring at her thumb, waiting for a fifth syllable to come to her head but it was just filled with the heartbeats and breaths and awkward shifts in character from all the other pretty little girls in the room.

Fight. 

She was asked to come down now. Fight. Her hand was being taken again now. Fight. She was being directed to her cushion. Fight. The lesson ended and they all left without giving her a single word. Fight.

Li Jie said nothing the whole ride. 

He was kind. He cared for Toph. She was under the impression that he had cared for children before her. They had only worked together for four years and he was always calm. Every action was so cleanly executed, Toph had never felt his heart speed past a solid fifty-five. She really had nothing against him personally. The trust was mutual. Mutual enough, for example, to drive Toph out of the Upper Ring and downtown to a ‘tea date’. All this despite Lady Beifong only allowing her to go to engagements in private with approved individuals. 

‘Toph.’

Toph stared out the window.

‘This address is past the Wall. “Jasmine Dragon”. It’s some cafe.’

‘Tea shop,’ she had argued, all those months ago, ‘And… I hear it’s nice. For the area I mean.’

Li Jie laughed softly and said nothing more. They were driving the same route now. Down through the Royal Avenue, directly through the palatial district to the southern entrance at the Wall. 

They stopped as they arrived at the border. The Wall was always in the back of Toph’s mind, in the corner of her eye. The sheer size of it and the stone it was built from always seemed to whisper things to her. Little things people weren’t meant to know. The fortifications, even the metal supports, were dug deep into the ground, deeper than anything else in the city. For Toph it was a lesson. A whisper from the past. The older versions were buried under and inside the newest wall, each predecessor invisible to the naked eye but still rooted in the earth below. Toph could hear their stories, the wars they won the parts they lost, the suffering and burial under newer versions as technology advanced.

The car pulled up to the checkpoint in front of the entrance to the tunnel through the Wall. Li Jie rolled down the window and passed over his I.D. to the man who had walked over from his little kiosk.

The man leaned confidently on the car window. Toph could feel Li Jie’s temper change.

“What about hers?” said the man.

“You need hers? She’s not exactly driving the vehicle,” said Li Jie annoyed.

Toph felt the tension rise between them as the anger grew in the man.

“If I tell you to do something you do it, asshole. Give me her fucking I.D.”

“Don’t speak like that in front of my ward.”

Something snapped in the man.

“You think I’m fucking playing? Who the fuck do you think you are?” shouted the man, “I fucking own you and your shithole city!”

The other officers at the checkpoint had noticed the commotion and walked over.

“Put it down, Wan,” said another man. Toph couldn’t tell what they were speaking of. There was something in the man’s shaking hands.

Li Jie had begun to shake. His hands were on the wheel, gripping it tightly.

“Listen, dumbass. Do whatever he told you to do and get the hell out of here.”

Li Jie fumbled around his bag in the shotgun seat and pulled something out.

“This doesn’t look like the other I.D.s or yours.” said the much calmer man.

“It’s a type two. All great families have them. She’s a Beifong.”

There was a pause of boredom.

“Am I supposed to know who the fuck that is?” drawled the man, then before Li Jie could answer, “Oh, you know what, fuck it. Just get a move on.” 

Li Jie took both passes back and threw them on the seat next to him. The hydraulic barricade lowered into the road and he slammed on the gas pedal.

A while later, Toph was starting to recognise the buildings around where the Jasmine Dragon was. They had not said a word from the checkpoint. Toph could tell that Li Jie was trying and holding himself back.

“I’m sorry, Toph, that was very reckless of me. I thought I was fighting for your honour there but I was wrong.”

Toph stared out the window as they turned into the main boulevard and the Dragon’s big red sign came into view. 

“Just don’t tell Mom,” Toph whispered as the car was parked at the side of the road.

Li Jie did not respond. There was no other course of action to take. Not only would he lose his job by admitting to lying to Lady Beifong on the regular but he cared too much for Toph to take away the only life she had.

Li Jie got out of the driver seat and opened Toph’s door for her. She looked directly at his offered hand, paused, and took it. Fight. Toph could hear the monorail behind them and a few people out on the street. There seemed to be more crowds out here. He walked her across the pavement. Toph stopped dead in her tracks.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

It was below. And above. And inside. And directly in front. 

By now, Toph didn’t need to pretend. Li Jie could knowingly walk her to the little staircase between the front door and the alleyway. But the stairs weren’t empty. There was a person at the bottom of them, smoking, his heart was beating fast, there was a noise coming from his ear and she could tell he was tall and tough. Inside the basement, there were six people. None of them recognisable in any way. They were not her friends and they were not young. They were adults and they were aggressive and they were keeping quiet or at least trying to. Ambush. The noise was in their ears as well. As well as across the road. There was something happening on the other side.

She searched the rooftops for sound. They had a little window of view down to the Dragon’s front door and the side stairs through the monorail bridge. There were two people up there. They too were listening to their earpieces. They both held very long guns. Their bodies seemed to be tense but relaxed, perfectly prepared. They were watching her.

Behind the wall, there were more people and there were others inside the building across the alleyway and even more out in the back alley. Everywhere.

She forcefully pushed Li Jie to direct her into the Jasmine Dragon’s actual entrance. He looked down at her confused but played along, repositioning her for the door. When he went to let go and leave her to walk in alone, she didn’t let go. She sensed that he was beginning to understand that there was something he was missing.

He opened the door to the tea shop and it became very quiet. For Toph, it was no escape. Her senses were as much in the calm room of the shop as they were up on the rooftops and under their very feet in the basement and even back home. She could feel everything happening and there was no avoiding it.

She sat herself down with Li Jie. She could tell how confused he was. He kept on looking down at her for guidance.

“AH!” boomed a loud, beautiful voice from the back of the shop, “My favorite customer!”

The big old man marched over to the pair sitting at a discreet table in a dark corner. He sat down across from them. Toph could feel his massive grin. His heart was off. He too was not calm.

“I am so glad to see you are safe, my dear! In these maddening times, a little predictability can bring you a long way. So can seeing your lovely face again!”

“Uncle, I think-” Toph was cut short.

“No, no, mistress Beifong. Do not fret! Here, you seem quite stressed! I’ll brew you something warm and calming.” The man rose from his seat. Toph protested.

“I do not think it is time to discuss such things! I will be back soon, young lady!”

Toph could hear it in his voice. The true words were pouring out.  _ Shut up, shut up shut up. _ Toph closed her mouth and waited. Li Jie was remaining incredibly patient.

Uncle Iroh was not to be questioned. If anyone in the world knew what to do at this very moment it was him. Toph laughed inside as she thought, of course he already knows what’s going on. It was his annoyingly special talent to know just about everything.

A minute later, Iroh came back with a large tray it clacked with tea cups and saucers.

He sat down and handed out the mugs and little plates for snacks. He poured the tea softly and said in a much, much lower voice:

“Now my dear, let us speak of this little problem, eh?”

“Uncle, they’re everywhere. Even across the street, even in the basement.”

He laughed quietly, “ha, ha! Across the street?” he turned his attention to Li Jie, “This young woman is quite the fascinating person, wouldn’t you agree?” He spoke so perfectly. Not formally but in the way you wanted to hear words come out of someone's mouth. Each word was individually expressed but it all joined together with a flowing kindness.

Li Jie did not agree. He did not say anything.

“What is going on?”

“I do not know if you have heard, but only a few hours ago, the great Dai Li were finally destroyed. Their headquarters burned all through the night. It seemed our friends downstairs are a little more connected than we would like.”

Toph’s face dropped to dread.

“Pipsqueak? Smellerbee? What happened to them?” 

“I am sorry to say I have no idea,” whispered Iroh, “But just this morning some of their brothers in arms were discovered hiding in the Air Nomad Monastery in the Lower Ring. In fact, an old friend from there contacted me very early in the morning to give me some information. Though their arrest I found out on my own when the soldiers downstairs first came to question me. They have been here since before I woke up. I came from upstairs to find them lurking outside the door!”

“Iroh, this is bad! We have to find them before they do.” Toph argued.

“I admire your bravery, My Lady, but I think it best to stay out of these affairs. It is much too dangerous even for someone of your calibre!”

Toph laughed, “Uncle, please-”

“I know! But I truly believe this may be too much for any of us alone. I only ask that you exercise patience when acting on this. The Fire Nation is not to be underestimated, especially after such a victory as the Earth Kingdom.”

Toph rolled her eyes.

Li Jie scoffed and shook his head in what she suspected to be disbelief. They both turned to him.

“I- I’m sorry, Mistress Toph, but what on earth is going on? Her calibre? What is that even supposed to mean?” he seemed extremely exasperated.

“Li Jie,” said Toph plainly, “There are two soldiers with what I think are sniper rifles on the roof across the street. There is one man at the bottom of the basement stairs outside. There are two men and three women downstairs; one man and one woman in the building across the alley, next door and they’re all speaking through a radio.”

Li Jie simply stared, “but- how? What are you talking about? We didn’t even go down the stairs or in the basement-”

“And a good thing too! I am afraid your companion is very correct!” said the Iroh simplistically, “Mr. Li Jie, I advise you to have more trust for Miss Toph. I can tell she trusts you greatly but you must see her for more than her looks. It might one day save your life, especially if you intend to stay at her side for the next few weeks.”

“Toph,” said Li Jie, almost fully ignoring Iroh, “I don’t understand.”

“I am blind.”

“I- I know Toph.”

“But I can see. I use vibration and sound. I use the earth.”

He sighed desperately, “Yes, I understand but even that could not let you see people on the other side of the street or next door! Hell, not even down stairs!”

“I don’t mean that way. Look, I can’t show you here but I promise you I can see more than you could ever imagine me to.”

“More than  _ you _ could ever imagine to see,” added Iroh.

“Uncle Iroh, he helped me figure it out.”

Toph sensed a hostility emitting from her companion.

“Who the hell are you, old man. Don’t you have better things to do than be friends blind girls?”

Iroh’s face grew very red and he laughed nervously.

“I assure you my intentions are as honourable as your own, Mr. Li Jie. Toph may be a child but she is as strong and as smart as any woman. She simply needed friends who were not women older than her. There are many young adults living in this building.”

“He introduced me to my real friends, Li Jie. He owns the basement downstairs, where we hang out. But we’re not the only ones. There are loads of people who go through there, not just kids.”

“Toph, you should’ve let the man speak, he was doing a way better job of calming me down. What do you mean ‘loads of people’?”

Toph sighed. She turned away from him and slumped in her seat. Things were going to get very bad, very quickly. Knowing Li Jie, he would most likely risk his job if it meant keeping Toph out of these multiple, immediate dangers. Taking her out of town was worth it if for a good cause but now that the cause was tainted, things were not so clear. 

“I want to go home,” she said through gritted teeth. She left the table as loudly as possible. It was unlike her to lose her cool so extremely in front of Iroh but it really wasn’t about him. She knew he would sit this one out as long as she went home safely and he knew it was more directed towards Li Jie than himself. Her guard tripped behind her trying to keep up. 

She didn’t hold back walking directly towards the door, ramming it open and charging towards the car. She pulled frantically on the handle of the backdoor. Li Jie ran over and fumbled with the keys. It flew open, almost knocking Toph over. He caught her and she pushed him away as soon as possible.

“You wanna know what I can do?” she shouted, “Watch and learn, dick.” she was crying.

Toph stomped her foot so hard that it made an impossible, thunderous noise on the sidewalk pavement. She turned and got into the car, slamming that door as well, leaving Li Jie out on the street, staring speechlessly at the pulverised impression in the concrete before him in the cracked shape of Toph’s little boot.

He looked up, presumably at her. She remained sulking in the car looking at nothing and nowhere. He turned slowly, opened his door, sat down at the wheel and stared forward. 

His breathing was shallow and his heartbeat was most definitely above fifty-five.

“Toph,” he whispered, like someone had punched the air out of him.

“Drive.”

He drove. Toph realised there was no reason for them to be going home right now and many questions would have to be answered. Li Jie simply did not speak. It enraged Toph even more. Why couldn’t he just get over it and, more importantly, himself?

“I didn’t text your mother,” he said quietly.

She couldn’t take it. A loud screeching sound simply burst out of herself. Li Jie swerved slightly out of sheer surprise. 

“Ugh! What the fuck is wrong with you?” She hit him in the head. He ducked like a turtle retreating into his shell.

The rest of the ride was perfectly silent. Li Jie cleverly crossed through the Wall at another checkpoint to waste time and avoid another altercation. He unfortunately had a point.

Toph took out her phone. As she tapped at the screen, it spoke back to her

‘Mother: Tell me when you get there :)’

‘Mother: Are you there yet?’

‘Mother: I need you to answer me, Madame M just called me.’

‘Mother: Why won’t your driver answer me?’

‘4 missed calls’

She opened the messages and began to type.

_ I’m coming home now. Turns out I hate my friends _

She deleted the last two words.

_ \- tea. _

A self serving lie for multiple reasons. Now, her mother would be angry and offended and there was a good cover story. Toph had simply not cooperated yet again. 

‘Toph, are you with your driver.’

‘He literally held my hand the whole way.’

She turned off her phone and sat passively until again they arrived home.

The rest of the day disappeared from her. Her parents fought at her and then with each other. Li Jie tried desperately to apologise to the housekeeper who would then have to apologize for him to her mother. Toph slipped out between all the shouting to her room. She turned off all the lights and closed the blinds. She stood in the middle of the floor in perfect silence. She wanted to hear something worth her while.

As she stood, she searched. Her friends had to be somewhere even if ‘somewhere’ was prison or dead or something. They had to still be somewhere. 

Usually, the sheer distance of Ba Sing Se would have been a disadvantage to her especially with all the thousands of constant noises interrupting each other. In reality, it was better this way. The city was so large and so loud that it became alive. There was a system and everything fit into itself. It was the perfect amplifier and isolator. She could listen and feel anything. But to look so far as the middle ring she would have to concentrate for a long, long time. If they were even farther than that, it would be a while until she found them, if ever.

Toph was ready to do anything if it meant escape; if it meant she could fight.


	13. Suki

##  Suki

Suki threw her container of maps across the room. It collided with the wall and fell loudly to the floor. She took a breath. When she sat back down, the little message still sat there.

Her computer screen was blank. There were no distinct features, it in fact looked almost faulty. But there was one small tab that looked like a simple .txt page. 

_ K: Target on fire. For real. _

_ K: Sorry. :[ _

The messages were always short and nondescript. Directly after that was a long string of numbers and letters.

Suki opened another app and yet another plain little page popped up. 

There was a title in the middle with the word ‘Media’ written in black Arial. Below it was a search box. She typed each number and letter in one by one. It never let you paste. She pressed ‘enter’ and the page disappeared, then popped back open with a smaller box waiting for a passcode. There was no word or message that told her that, she simply had to know. All the little custom programs weren’t made to be commercial-friendly.

Suki remembered the first day her friend Kiki handed her the bulky, bastardised laptop. 

‘There! Good as new but now nobody can spy!’ she said, as if that was worth losing two thirds of the original product. There was nothing to do on the clunky device besides work. The software was not exclusive to the Warriors- Suki knew Kiki had gotten inspiration from a few friends around town- but it was private and effective.

She took the little diary from the side of the desk and opened it, flipping to a list of scribbled names and numbers.

She glanced at the name ‘Old Man’ and tapped in the six digits after it. The page ate them up and disappeared. Then, a mp4 file opened.

It was a messy video, far away from what it was filming but the point was clear. It was the Upper Ring, without a doubt. The blocky, stylized building of the Dai Li was drowning in a smoke plume. The fire was contained but despite that it burned high. Suki could tell Kai himself was filming it.

She closed the tab forcefully and slumped back in the chair. There was no such thing as luck in this world. Only eternal ass pains and headaches. Suki was tensing every muscle in her body to stop herself from crying. She was losing everything, even her chance to get it back. It would be months before she would find anyone else and even then it would probably just be up to chance. 

It was just her and Kai. Everyone else she could meet couldn’t be seen with her or the consequences were open to just about anything at all. At least with Kai he could go about as he pleased. Nobody really knew his affiliations, whether they be negative or positive. Even Suki wasn’t entirely sure of all his different facets. He was so ambiguous, perfectly playing all sides at a very neutral level that nobody ever really saw him from the outside.

Suki sat there, having nothing else to do. She could think of only the worst scenarios. So much death had already relentlessly passed, what was stopping it from happening again no matter how tired she felt?

Her computer pinged. She got up lazily and stared at the new message.

_ K: Jasmine Dragon. MR. _

_ K: Better at night. _

She typed back quickly.

_ S: And you? _

The tab closed by itself, meaning nobody was online. The one difficult (but also very secure) quirk was the chat would always close- permanently erasing everything- if the other messenger went offline. It made it difficult to talk at the same time if it wasn’t a pre scheduled meeting. Sometimes the waiting took hours, especially if it was in secret. But it did its job.

It was barely midday but Suki shot up out of the chair to start preparing anyway. She had to do something with her hands. She ran downstairs, jumping around bags and closets trying to find anything she would need. Arms, protection, gear. While passing the basement stairs, she skidded to a stop, eyeing the door. It would be her first chance in weeks to put on the old gear with good reason. 

Frustration grew within her. Questions she had never been asked grew in her mind. Secret truths she didn’t want to face, not in a thousand years. The little voices that used to push forward were now looking back at her and whispering. They were hissing a final curse before they died and it was all her fault. 

She couldn’t stop thinking of running. Running from the frontlines, sprinting side to side to dodge anything coming from behind, hiding behind anything that had crashed or broken down. The view from the fields was horrible enough but the view from the wall was worse. The smell of the lands, houses and people burning throughout the Agrarian Lands was something that would remain in her heart until she died.

There was little left of her well earned pride that remained. It had all been stripped from her so violently. Now she sat in a kitchen that wasn’t hers, with a name that wasn’t hers and a heavy weight that was only hers. 

It would be hours until nightfall. So, she sat and thought but that hurt too much. She never could remember feeling this guilty about loss.

A newer realisation made her even more furious than before. She had never felt this way because, when around others, she was reminded that this wasn’t her fault. If Kai or Jin and Kiki were here, they would have already started declaring loudly their hatred for the rich bastards who owned them. There would have been rows under a soft gaslamp and over a bottle of liquor about how one day everyone would live like them. Nobody would want more for themselves and nobody else. Everyone would live in little houses on big farms sleeping soundly knowing tomorrow there would be no lord or lady trampling over their lives. 

The final few nights were spent fighting amongst each other. Everyone wanted to leave and escape into the upper rings but there was no point to it if they would lose everything. Their homes would be taken and they would be lost in the city. The farmers were quite divided between survival and honor. Suki never chose one until it was forced onto her. She felt so torn between the two. It made her want to punch something every time she had to choose. 

Why couldn’t she have both?

Why was the price of being right and doing the right thing always dying? No matter the fight, it always seemed to end up with death. She didn’t see that here. She didn’t even see it in the Lower Ring. There, you always had something, you always had some chance.

In the end, the wall began to crumble and shake. Everyone took to their trucks, driving over crops and fields, rushing to the entrances of the city. The choice was made and the Kyoshi stayed behind. A few farmers took up arms and held the line with their daughters and sisters. Others didn’t stand a chance. Suki didn’t blame them. The whole point of the Warriors being there was for that exact purpose. Protect Lands from the Wall. Both walls. In the end, they were never enough. In the end, the training, the hundreds wasted on guns and ammunition meant nothing when bombers and missiles sent the wall to hell.

But the palace was never bombed. The King disappeared. His attendants and managers and guards were sent home. The Dynasty of Earth erased for nothing, without honor or pain. The monarchy left pristine and the rest destroyed to protect its image. There were even little parties to celebrate the loss of everything. 

The image of that monster Azula could not leave her eyes. It burned into her. The other boy, the prince, there was a strange goodness that surrounded him. It only made Suki more angry. How could he? How dare he? Now was too late to have a conscience.

The Beifongs didn't seem to share in his hypocrisy. In truth, she didn’t know anything about them. She had only heard stories from friends who worked outside of the city in the mines and refineries. The Beifong Industry was not what could be called a friend of the people.

But she knew enough. They had bent the knee and abandoned everything. Their banks were filled and they could wait out a siege, a coup and death itself.

Suki thought for a moment about that girl. She could barely be eighteen. She didn’t know anything about any Beifong children. But the way that little girl had looked at Suki. She was most obviously blind but, nevertheless, Suki felt as if she had been seen. The girl looked at her as if she were being recognised. The girl had even reacted to little things that should have passed her by. There were so many secrets in her little figure. Then again, Suki had been doing the same thing all night. Perhaps she was just being paranoid. The feeling of everyone watching you was normal when everyone really should have been watching you.

But that was nothing like this girl. Toph. Her name was Toph. She couldn’t remember how she knew it. Perhaps someone had said it, though Suki felt that she had read it somewhere in a magazine. That would make sense, those girls were perfect for magazines. Perhaps not that particular girl, but what Toph should have been, that was perfect.

Suki wondered if the girl felt like she was always being looked at. She suspected she very well did but liked it. She hadn’t kept it a secret that she could see everyone and everything, meaning she had nothing to lose. Perhaps the lie was not that she could see. 

It was all so strange. Everything in the world was always strange but not like this.


	14. Aang

##  Aang

It was that same morning when they came. They were loud and terrifying. Aang jumped out of bed, tripping over himself as he ran for the door. The corridor was filled with confused men and women ripped from their slumbers, poking their heads out their doors. Aang and a few others rushed down the stairs down to the front door. They ran down the stairs and through the side hall to the welcoming hall, sneakily watching the commotion.

The doors to the monastery had been broken almost directly off their hinges, their windows shattered. The wood was as thick as it was old but the battering ram that had been aggressively introduced to it was enough to open the locks. 

Dozens of black-clad figures rushed loudly into the room. They all wore red tinted armor and terrifying masks. Each had an enormous firearm in their hands. They aimed them in every direction, sweeping the long hall. 

Someone pushed passed from behind Aang’s hiding place. It was Monk Gyatso. His face was skewed in a way that was very alien to him. It looked angry, hurt. The old monk looked as aggressive as his attackers.

He put himself in the centre of the room as the figures turned and trained their rifles on him, surrounding him. 

“How dare you?” The man’s voice boomed with fury, “These are sacred halls. My children and brethren are sleeping, with a long day ahead of them. You and your violence are not welcome in this sanctuary.”

One woman stepped forward. She did not match with the rest of the attackers. She was short and slim. She wore a perfect grey suit and her hands were kept neatly behind her back. The lady marched toward the frail little man, her face as devoid of emotion.

“Are you the leader of the monastery?” she asked plainly.

“Perhaps you, who have broken into my home, should identify themselves first.”

She stared into him, “Very well. I am Agent Sakushi. We are looking for the fugitives you are harboring. The ones who attacked a government facility only last night.”

“We do not harbor criminals, Madame,” he said stoically, “At most we harbor the sick and the injured, those suffering from your war efforts.”

“You will be more respectful to the Crown’s Servicemen, you insolent old man!” She rushed into his face, yelling an inch away from him.

“And you should show more respect to your elders, you fiend!” Aang and his friends stole a little gasp at the hostility coming from a man who was so unfamiliar with such language, “Since when has the Fire Nation been so disgustingly ill mannered to the Air Nomads? Or are the temples in your land not so well known any more?”

“I don’t care about your pity work, I will take the criminals one way or another.”

“I never expected such behavior from your people. We have healed your injured!” Gyatso’s voice cracked and he swallowed hard. 

The soldiers turned and split off in groups down each hallway. When they reached Aang, the soldiers began shouting until they were hoarse. They jammed their guns at them, trapping them on the stairwell. None of them could move.

Aang watched as another group made their way down the stairs. Their captors did not look away from them. Aang knew it would be moments until they found the boy hidden away.

The soldiers hovering over them suddenly tipped their heads in a strange way. One of them touched their ear and responded, “Copy. You need backup?”

A minute later two soldiers were carrying him up the stairs on his stretcher. The poor man was a terrible, sickly color. He was not moving but Aang still believed him to be alive.

Aang and his friends followed them out into the hall as they carried him out the front door. Gyatso’s face fell in deep sorrow. 

The last soldiers left the building. The woman stopped and turned back to them all.

“You. Monk. You will come with us.”

“No!” Aang shouted, stepping in front of Gyatso.

“Step aside, you are obstructing my arrest. I will take you as well if I have to.”

Gyatso pushed Aang to the side and gave him a stern look. Stay away.

“There will be no such arrest!” a voice echoed from behind them in the gardens.

A woman and a few other monks came quickly into the welcoming hall. They all had the same intricately detailed tattoo over their forehead and arms. They all wore fully yellow robes covering their bodies and beautiful, beaded necklaces over their necks. The woman had long hair that was receded far up her head. It was in a loose ponytail. Her eyes were calm and revealed nothing at all. 

The Fire Nation agent blinked, “Avatar Yangchen! I-”

“Enough. You won’t be taking my brethren. I am the honoured guest of the Crown and I myself blessed their rule just last night. You will not come to our home now and ruin even more lives. We have sheltered criminals of all types in these walls as we do all over the world, even in your homeland. We have healed your own soldiers, those who killed many of our people.”

“I do not have time for your politics.”

“Then you will leave. Now.”

Sashuki glared at the Holy Mother. Without another word, she turned and marched out the door. Yangchen turned to Gyatso and held his arms, whispering to him. After a few words, they both turned to look at Aang.

She walked over to him, “You are very brave for having protected that young man and Monk Gyatso, Aang, but you must be more careful.”

Aang stared at her in awe. He was so hurt by the comment and at the same time he felt he simply needed to accept it. A direct word from the matriarch of all the Air Nomads was not something to simply ignore or to take selfishly but, at the same time, Aang felt betrayed at being scolded for doing what was so obviously the right thing.

She stepped forward and Gyatso joined her with the other Elders.

“Monk Calden, please prepare you children for breakfast, it’s time we ate.”

The morning went on as it always did. There was just more whispering than usual. The secrets were being shared across the monastery. The Elders led the morning rituals in the temple directly next to the monastery, praying with people all over the city. Aang and his brothers and sisters all got ready for the day, getting washed and dressed, cleaning their rooms and then the rest of the building. A small group of them left to prepare the food. 

By seven in the morning, the bells were chiming and all the children filed out into the mess hall, sat at the tables and waited patiently for the Elders to arrive. 

Finally, they all came in a big bunch, talking quietly amongst themselves. Everyone who was already seated quickly lowered their voices into a silence. The High Monk, Calden, offered his place to Avatar Yangchen and she thanked him gracefully. Everyone watched them as they sorted themselves into their cushions on the floor. The whole room was on pause. Yangchen’s face was hesitant. She turned to the Sister on her left then got back up again.

She looked out over the rows of girls and boys staring right back at her.

“I’m sure you are all very confused and possibly very hurt by the events of this morning. I have already contracted repairmen in today’s morning ritual,” there was a long silence, “In the one morning that I’ve been here, I have already seen such bravery and compassion. The teachings of our past masters being honoured with such love. Precious lives have been saved and others have been protected at all costs.”

“I can return happily to the Western Temple knowing that no commandments of the Air Nomads have been tainted by war or death. But I must beg you all to remember something: All life  _ is _ precious. Especially your own. If you are not the greatest version of yourself now- the most peaceful, free and compassionate- you will find it more difficult to help others. I beg you to self preserve and preserve those closest to you. Your brethren need you now and if you all give yourselves up without thought, then perhaps your life will replace the one that was in danger. This is not the way.”

A great sadness had come over the room and Yangchen’s face. She breathed deeply and raised her hands:

“Eat, my children, you have so much hard work to do today!”

The room slowly picked up with conversation and commotion as breakfast began. Aang could not stop staring at the Holy Mother. His face was distraught and his heart was broken. He felt as if he himself had been personally reprimanded in front of everyone in the monastery, even if nobody else knew it. It felt as if he wasn’t even there for a moment but when his eyes and thoughts came back into focus, the Avatar was staring right back at him. 

Her eyes were soft, her face so caring. She didn’t even know Aang and still she looked at him that way. Like long lost family. Aang hated it. It was strange because usually it was exactly what he would love, to be cared for by someone he did not know but still equally part of his life as anyone else. But with the words she had just spoken, he felt in great conflict with her. He simply could not understand if she was upset with him or not.

The meal went about as expected after that. They cleared up, Aang went to the kitchens with a few others to wash everything up and clean the kitchen and the mess hall with the rest of the cooks. After that, he joined the older children in the study rooms. Monk Gyatso was lecturing on southern history. Later, he moved to the temple with the entire group again and they completed midday rituals.

In the middle of the ritual, Sister Dia quietly shuffled into the temple halls to call Aang and some of the other medical initiates to help with an emergency in the infirmary. The rest of the day was stressful and tiring, spent helping a man that had stopped breathing in his bed for no apparent reason. On top of that, new patients were admitted during the day and had to be attended to all at the same time. They missed lunch. The sun was setting by the time he and Chimei were sitting on the garden grass doing nothing at all.

“What a day,” she sighed after ages of silence.

“Yeah,” sighed Aang.

“You think that guy’s okay?”

“Which one?”

“The kid from last night, obviously.”

“Oh,” Aang didn’t want to think about it, “To be honest, probably not.”

There was a pause, “Yeah… you’re probably right.”

“Do you think Avatar Yangchen is upset with me?”

Chimei sat up to look at him, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“This morning, when I fought with that Fire Nation lady, she told me I shouldn’t have.”

“Oh, so that whole speech at breakfast was about you.”

“Exactly,” admitted Aang with great sadness.

“Aang, I really don’t think that’s what she meant. I think she just wants you to be safe. We’re in a war, you see the way she looks at us. It would kill her if anything happened to one of us.”

“And she doesn’t even know my name.”

“Exactly! As far as I know, the Air nomads have done pretty well through the war, she probably just doesn’t want that to change now when it’s finally ended.”

“Not much of an ending, losing.”

There was a moment of hesitation. Teaching dictated that they had neither won nor lost. He knew she should have argued with him, ‘We didn't lose the war, the Earth Kingdom did’ and ‘we lost when life was lost’. But she just layed back down.

“Yeah.”

“Aang,” said a voice from behind them. They both turned then shot up in surprise. Avatar Yangchen was standing in the entrance of the cloister hallway.

“Avatar Yangchen!” said Chimei standing up and dusting herself off.

“Please, my daughter, rest. I heard you two have been working hard in the infirmary. Sister Dia seems very convinced that the two of you will make excellent doctors one day,” she looked directly at Aang, “I would like to speak to you. We have a lot to discuss, I’m sure you agree.”

“I-,” he was unsure how to react to this honesty, “I do.”

He looked at Chimei, they shrugged at each other and he jogged behind Yangchen for a moment before catching up. They walked through the open walkways of the cloister and into the office wing on the opposite side from the welcoming hall. They climbed up the stairs and entered an empty office, filled with the light of the setting sun.

“I am so grateful for your work today. You will be a great monk soon enough. First, you wake in the ungodly hours of the early morning to save a man from death, then protect him again and your own brethren from danger when our home was invaded. Our people are taught to overflow with charity and support for their fellow people but you are simply brave.”

“I just did what you all taught me to do,” he said.

“And yet...”

“And yet,” he continued shyly, “I can’t help but feel you aren’t as pleased with my actions as you say. The way you were talking about me at breakfast, it seemed as if you didn’t actually want that to happen.”

The woman began to laugh so softly.

“Oh, Aang. You are so young! I see you and I just see some much unresolved… shit!”

She laughed heartily as Aang stared at her with bright red cheeks and a face of disbelief. This woman was impossibly unpredictable. It seems the less she acted like a holy saint, the more she became one. Aang was unsure how to respond.

She sighed through little laughs.

“Aang, you are amazing. But all that ‘shit’? You have to let it go.”

“But this morning you said that I-”

“‘That you’… Aang. That is what I called you here to teach you. This lesson is for you and you alone. What I said before is true, for all Air Nomads. But this, this is more than that. You are more than that.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. And Aang, -I know you don’t but- you just have to let go.”

She looked at him with that face again.

“I know the goal of our people is freedom. Freedom from everything to be oneself. And that is a lesson you must hold with you until you die. But now I am going to teach you the opposite.”

Aang sat to the ground, crossed his legs and looked up to her again. She grinned at that with so much joy. Aang could tell that she was in love with this.

“Now you are going to learn of restraint. Control. Something you can learn in this place! The Earth Kingdom’s greatest cultural philosophies revolve around remaining grounded, that is where the name for their nation comes from. You must become more than free because it isn’t about you.”

“I know it’s not about me.”

“Listen to me, my child. Whether you know this or not, you do not live this truth. You must learn to use the same selflessness for every being to join them. You can never detach yourself.”

Aang’s head was spinning. Everything he had ever been taught was being denied to him by the highest authority on the matter. There was no one in the world who could argue this. She was the Avatar.

“I don’t understand. How could you say these things to me? I mean you’re-”

“Just a simple woman trying to help her children.”

“The Avatar!” He jumped to his feat.

“And that,” she laughed again, “That is a good example! I am both a simple woman and the leader of my people and all our followers.”

“But, Mother, if I can’t achieve all the things I was taught to achieve then I will never… I’ll never become a master. I’ll never even become a monk,” he whispered with his head hung low, “How could you ask this from me?”

“I am only asking you to do what is right, and to be brave. Two things that you are already a master of.”

“No, you’re not! You’re asking me to do the opposite of everything I’m learning!”

“Aang, just because it is the opposite of our philosophy does not mean it can’t be right or brave. We are not the only good people in the world. And again, Aang, I am not asking you to abandon the Air Nomads. I am asking you to do something much harder. I need you to do both, I am asking you to give up balance to embrace the chaos and conflict of both sides of this coin. Release and root yourself. Bridge the gap. Bring both earth and air into one. Meet them halfway, so to speak.”

“Why?”

“Because that is the way of the Avatar! It is what I do every day. It is what I am doing now, speaking with you.”

Aang’s eyes grew very large. He was at a loss for words. What was that even supposed to mean?

“I- why are you teaching me to do this? I- am I supposed to take your place?” It felt almost immoral to ask such a question. Here he was arguing for the release of all earthly desires, for the pursuit of spiritual freedom and in the next breath asking to become the leader of a global religion.

“Oh, no! Absolutely not, you could never. Or, at least I don’t believe you could. You were not made for it. But you are an Avatar, despite all that.”

Aang shook his head in disbelief. Now she was just insulting him. He felt a little dizzy.

“Aang. Firstly, there are hundreds of monks and nuns much greater than I,” that was for sure, “But that does not mean they were meant to lead. It does not mean they are an Avatar. It is not a pyramid or a staircase. It is a network, a collective.”

“But you just said I couldn’t be an Avatar and that I also was an Avatar.”

“No, I am saying that the position of the Holy Mother and the position of the Avatar are two very distinct things, though they do overlap from certain perspectives. Aang, define for me what an Avatar is in your head. Not the position, the theology of it.”

Aang thought hard. Not the position. The position was standing directly across from him. But there technically was more. The Avatar was the title given to the Holy Leader as one who was so free that they could channel the spiritual energy to the material world and back. Though Aang always believed it to be a metaphor for simply being very well acquainted with the philosophy of the Air Nomads. He repeated that back to Yangchen.

“So close, Aang. Again! Right and wrong. It is as much a metaphor as it is a literal truth! An Air Nomad that is so spiritually detached that they may commune with any spirit of the world is also meant to be able to preach the Word. But I literally am spiritually connected to the beings of the other world. The next world. The immaterial.”

“I know you are.”

“And you also know _ you _ are.”

Aang froze. Yet another secret was being ripped away from him. He couldn’t help but think of the voice in his head. He realised then he wasn’t remembering, the voice was talking right now.

It said nothing exact or particular. It was simply angry. It was chaotic. It could not stay still inside him. The voice was incessant.

“There is so much inside you, Young Avatar. The sooner you learn to let go of all things, even freedom and then join all things, like the material, you find that the turmoil settles. The storm subsides and allows you to think, to be in control. Right now, you can neither think nor gain control. You are neither air nor earth. You are alone and nowhere. Join the real world, Aang. There is so much more than just you.”

“How did you know about that?” he asked quietly like he had been betrayed.

“As you said, young man, I can convene with all spirithood. Even yours. Even the one inside you. I know that chaos.”

“It can do really terrible things,” whispered Aang guiltily.

“Again, Aang! Not you! That was the spirit. It can also do great things with your help. It could save the world. I bet one day it’ll even save your life.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“Oh yes, wind spirits tend to be if they are unhappy.”

“It attacked the monastery one night.”

“And then bonded with you?”

Aang nodded. He couldn’t think about that night. It wasn’t bad but what came after was.

Avatar Yangchen walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I must leave, Aang. In a few hours I will be returning home to the Western Temple. I wish I could stay and oversee your learning but this war is changing the world, even after its end. I have so much to do. I’m sure you do as well.” She walked past him and opened the door.

“Avatar Yangchen,” she turned and looked back to him with the softest smile, “I understand what you’ve told me but I’m unsure of what to do.”

“So am I, young Avatar. All I know is whatever you have learned to do in this monastery is no longer enough. There is more to do and you must find it, master it and use it to help others like you always have.”

She walked out the door. That was the last Aang saw of her. He was alone. There was nothing but the birds outside and the screaming of the little children out for their free time in the gardens. The sunlight was almost gone but as fiercely hot as ever. There was the voice inside him. It wasn’t even in his head. It was in his chest. Perhaps that was why it was so hard to hear and so easy to feel. 

Aang didn’t know what to do or how to simply keep going on with his day. He walked over to the desk in the back centre of the room and sat down. He slumped over the table and did nothing for the rest of the day. He was sure someone was looking for him. He wasn’t too sure if he cared or not.

For the last few weeks, Aang was so certain that he would be able to live with this thing inside him. It was simply the way life was from now on and that was that. But every ‘incident’ after ‘incident’ made that harder to believe. That was exactly what Yangchen meant. He had to do both. Chaos and order. Peace and conflict. Compromise everything for everything.

It was time to negotiate with the spirit in his chest.


	15. Zuko

##  Zuko

Zuko and Azula sat side by side in a dark room, they were placed at the top of a large, circular table. A silent fire behind a glass wall burned in the background. The windows overlooking the Royal Avenue were tinted. 

“Last night, resurgents destroyed the headquarters of the Ba Sing Se secret police known as the Dai Li. Agent Sakushi captured a few of them and secured their hideout. We are at this moment analysing all the data we have found on them and are interrogating the prisoners. One of them is in critical condition but I believed him a worthwhile asset to place in medical care.” Admiral Zhao spoke out to all the other generals and advisors but kept an eye on Azula.

She stared directly back at him with a face of disgust.

“Did they take anything?” she asked, in a warning tone Zuko knew all too well. One chance left.

“That wasn’t the objective. The fire was set by them with multiple explosives. They took out a majority of the defensive forces onsite. Obviously, whatever was in that archive posed a great threat to the Earth Kingdom’s national security.”

“And now you idiots lost it all to a bunch of upstart peasants. Pathetic.” She scowled at Zhao, forcing him to sit down with those eyes of disdain.

“Does anybody else have bad news to share with us?” asked Zuko playing with a knife and slumped in his seat. Azula smirked.

“I’m tired of having to fight a war I already won just because you don’t know how to do the jobs I gave you. Control this city. Just because we are victorious does not mean the locals will comply. If they had wanted us here, they wouldn’t have walls.”

“Well, there was one last thing,” said Zhao with pure regret in his tone.

“Oh,” hissed Azula- leaning forwards- almost in a whisper, “Do tell.”

“Well… Well. There was something else at the headquarters that night.” 

He tapped the glass table and a digital display popped up. In a few clicks, an image appeared in front of each person at the table. It was a photograph of a massive hole in the front door of a building that was presumably the Dai Li headquarters. Water was everywhere. The next photo was of inside. The floor was flooded and littered with bodies. Many of them had terrible burn marks. The last ones were of the outer courtyard. Two bulky, black vehicles lay in small craters in the lawn. Again, the place was drenched. A few soldiers were crushed under the cars. There was one extra photo of an unassuming manhole left open.

“Follow up investigations show this isn’t the first time event’s of this ‘type’ have happened in the city, in fact, it’s been going on for a few months.”

The siblings looked down at the photos with faces of concern and frustration. 

This was not meant to be happening, though Zuko.

“What. Happened,” asked Azula through gritted teeth.

“I have no idea what could have caused this, princess.” admitted Zhao, plainly, “we found no technology or anomaly that could have caused this. there is not scientific explanation for how the water could have left the gutters especially not with enough force to eject two armored trucks into the air.”

“No,” said Azula. She rested her elbow on the table and started staring at her fingers, “because your science is too inept to explain such-”

She paused and moved her fingers. The whole room was watching her. Zuko was definitely the most unimpressed of them all. As they all stared, a string of electricity threaded through her fingers. Once more and a third, final time.

“Miracles,” mocked Zuko.

She turned to him with a sly smile, “Shut up, ass.”

“No more stupidity from the rest of you. At least when my brother acts this way I can rely on him to pick up his messes. The rest of you, find me whoever did this and bring them to me. There cannot be any other in the world with abilities such as mine. I will not be disturbed by some drainwater assassin.”

“Yes, Firelord,” said Zhao as he bowed his head, “So far, we know the locals call her The Painted Lady. It’s a river spirit from a little town in the Fire Nation. They actually believe this woman to be a supernatural entity. As your highness knows, the more plausible alternative is that this is a very real, very killable person.”

“So they believe in her?” asked Zuko, sitting up.

“Yes, I suppose so, Firelord Zuko. She’s a vigilante, always works in the dark. They say you know she’s coming because of the mist.”

Zuko turned and looked at Azula. She was very unhappy. He shook his head, “This is not good. We really can’t have her just running around. She’ll fuck everything up.”

“It seems she already is and already has,” said Azula angrily.

“Admiral Zhao, you and General Min assured me that there was no trouble from the people. What happened?” Zuko stared straight through Zhao. Out of the corner of his eye he saw General Min retreat into his seat.

“We- we miscalculated. With our victory being so clean, there was no foreseeable danger from the public.”

“There is always a danger!” raged Zuko, slamming his fist on the table. The image under the glass flickered and split in reaction to it, “When I was a child, I spent hours listening to boring ass teachers moan about how amazing you were. If we were any older, I would have had to hear about how fat your dicks were as well. But, here I am, apparently with more intelligence than the entire table combined. If you take something from someone, they want it back. It is simple!”

“Very simple,” confirmed Azula, “And you imbeciles are handing it right back to them.”

“We should have known about a mobilised rebel force before we took the first wall.”

Azula stood up. The whole table quickly fumbled to rise in respect. Zuko lazily followed suit.

“If there is anything else. Report it and have it sent to me. I am tired of listening to excuses.”

The siblings left the room with a feeling of power. After a few minutes of silent walking Zuko tried for conversation.

“Well that was fun.” 

“Fun?” growled Azula, “They are ruining my victory. We could lose everything. This will take hours of extra work!”

Zuko rolled his eyes, “You sound just like Ozai. We have literally hundreds of servants for commanding armies and preparing food.”

“And none of them are doing their work,” she sighed.

“It sucks. And it sucks doing it for them. So I won’t.”

“Of course! As usual you’ll get bored of things you don’t like and micromanage from my side.” Azula sounded even more exasperated than normal.

“That’s the best part of being your brother. You’re so obsessed with working that I don’t have to unless I actually want to!”

“Yes, so that way you can spend your time playing with swords and sitting in your room doing nothing.”

“I use the gym,” argued Zuko, “a lot.”

“Oh, I thought those biceps were normal pathetic and not extremely pathetic this week.”

“Shut up.” Zuko split off down another corridor without another word. It wasn’t worth it. In a matter of hours, they would be seeing each other again. A young girl followed behind him, head tipped low. She wore long red robes and her hair in a neat bun, like his.

Zuko walked back to his private quarters, shutting the door before the girl could follow him inside. He heard a little gasp escape her. 

He sighed and leaned against the door. 

‘They are ruining my victory’. The words traveled back to him. ‘Miracle’. Zuko shook his head at nothing. Why are you always such a bitch, asked Zuko.

He was sprawled on the bed. His clothing was strewn across the floor. There were pyjamas folded neatly on the bed. He had slipped on the silk pants.

‘I can rely on him to pick up his messes’. His hand made its way slowly up to his face. It stole a touch. All the way from his left brow, down over his eye and through to his neck, behind his ear.

There was nothing to feel. The skin on the tips of his fingers felt something broken. His face felt nothing. It felt as if a thin mask lay gently on his face, like there was nothing between his hand and bone besides air.

It seemed impossible still, even after all these years, that so much of him could be lost so easily to nothing at all. One word and half his face, voice and spirit were stripped away layer by layer. Like masks. Burned away.

Fire burns. Earth scorches. After that night, Zuko never knew where that left him. 

Scorched, forever bearing the scar of the fire, a reminder of who has power and who does not.

But Zuko had power. There was control and there was anger and there was definitely pride. The power was there, even in secret.

“That’s stupid,” said his voice once, “you’re sacrificing our soldiers for nothing.”

The flame snarled like an animal’s jaw going for the kill out and that was it. Nothing. Out of sight and out of mind.

The ground was sideways and the room was blurred. There was red everywhere. Red silk, red fire, red blood.

Then, he was in the infirmary being treated and the screaming was incessant. All from his broken mouth. The scar was left around the eye but for many weeks the rest was just as damaged.

And he was all alone. Zuko, alone. With no air left in his lungs and no one left in his heart. His mother dead and uncle far away. 

And now he was an Earth King. two weeks ago there was nothing left in him. His contribution to the Fall of Ba Sing Se was a service without reward, a debt to the crown. A day later, he was flown all the way back home and coaxed out of the shadows. Into the fray he went. The masses cheered and the generals bowed. The women giggled and curtsied and the servants were silent and timid. There were baths and parties and friendships. There was always something to have, old or new.

But that day was worse than everything else. The day he returned. The plane ride home had been a blurry mess of confusion. There was no anxiety yet, just hesitation. When they arrived at the palace, it was a horrible feeling of being gutted alive. I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t have come, I shouldn’t stay. 

After three long years, your prince has returned. 

The Firelord now an Earth King. The Earth King disguised as a Firelord. Scorched and burning. Not like Azula. She knew what she was. She made it so. There was no time to question it, it simply had to be. His sister had never questioned anything in her entire life. He suspected she never even had to think. The world seemed too frightened of her to keep secrets. It just whispered the truth into her ear.

Zuko turned around in his bed as if to put his back to the world and its secrets. He tensed his body, trying to beat it into submission, insisting it to rest. But it wouldn’t yield.

Don’t think about Azula. Don’t think about Azula.

The time passed. The sun drifted to the horizon and the light invaded the room from behind Zuko. He fought and fought with his head until finally he was too tired to keep going. Finally, it slowed down.

Think about something else. Anything else.

I love you Zuko.

Well, not fucking that, he begged. But it didn’t matter. The voice grew as loud as the soft thing could. 

I love you. Everything I did, I did for you.

Zuko.

The bed melted into him and the sunlight became as warm and as close as old memories. It hugged him and lay with him in the bed. It told him how much it cared and it breathed calmly with him.

It was too vivid. And Zuko was too alone. Too much to feel so not alone. He shot out of bed clumsily and walked over to a long, glass-topped desk. Under it was a suitcase, unzipped and overflowing with random items. Nobody had been permitted to touch it so it had been lazily left packed.

He quickly tore through the mess with his eyes half open from grogginess. His hand slammed against something hard. His fingers slipped around it and pulled it through the rest of the clothes and other things. He held it up and looked at it. It looked back.

Tusks, sharp ears and a crown. It grinned at him with all the contempt and anger of his family but smiled like a theatrical trickster would. The blue colored wood was old and cracked but the paint held strong. The eyes were empty, waiting for life.

Zuko moved back over to the bed, squinting from the invasive evening light, and fell back in. He shivered slightly in the few garments he had left on and slipped under the covers. He made himself scarce and small. Clutching the mask with all his strength and sadness.

The farther the tear from his eye fell down his face, the farther Zuko strayed from consciousness. Everything blurred. Sound, sight and mind. But everything still remained, distorted or not. All things remained, never giving in to peace. The mask in his arms, the scar on his face and voice in his head.

How could you do this, Zuko?

I don’t know. I just did what I had to do.

But you didn’t. You are filled with regret and you drown it in pride. Did I teach you nothing? Did my sacrifice mean nothing?

No! I did this alone!

I know you did, Zuko. And you left everyone behind for everything ahead. What do you have now? Is it worth it?

Zuko turned and looked out the window. She sat on the edge, legs swinging out.

The voice turned her head and Zuko fell out of bed with fear. Her face was blue. It was smug. And the eyes were waiting for life.

If I were still here I would have had to kill you as well.

No. 

No. I never could have. I would have died first. And I have.

I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I did wrong!

You do.

I can’t undo this.

Then heal it.

What does that mean?

She looked up at the sky. It was dark and the stars were so bright. Everything was basked in silver. She looked back at her son. She never looked away, even as she tipped and fell off the ledge into nothing. 

Zuko scrambled, vaulting over the bed and sprinting to the window. There was nothing below. Just moonlight. He looked up. There was nothing above. Just starlight.

The moon was looking at him. It was hurtful and clear. It was full as always. She never held back with him. The world was cold. The night was bare. Zuko was steaming. His whole body was sweating as he stared at the moon, panting. In his stomach, there was something burning. There was something on fire. His eyes were falling to a close as he grew more and more exhausted. The moon blurred and blurred again. Zuko was swaying back forth.

You cannot turn your back- from the fire- forever.

You make a terrible coward.

The dream went away but the heat never left. The world was a blur of highest moonlight and lowest sunlight. It was cold and hot and everything was attacking him. It was all over.

Many hours later, he had a memory of someone holding his palm and a cool towel on his forehead. Someone was speaking. The light was growing dimmer.

When Zuko next awoke, it was night. He was unsure if it was a dream at first, but this time the moon was not so bright. He lay in his own confusion for a while but then his heart shattered in fear. His body frantically twisted and patted around him, his eyes darted around the room searching for his sleeping companion.

He doubled back and stared at the desk on the other side of the room. It lay neatly, resting and smiling at the ceiling. Whoever had helped him, had saved him twice. It was obvious Azula had either not been informed or not cared enough to come check on him or else that thing would be far from here. 

It was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> who's ready for some ZUKKAAAA


	16. Sokka

##  Sokka

It was dark.

Sokka lay in his bed, his father next to him was turned away. He stared up at the black ceiling. There was nothing to see with the blinds shut. He couldn’t sleep but Katara still refused to go out. So, he just lay there, staring.

An hour ago, the light was still peaking through the windows but now there was nothing left. It was strange tonight. Sokka felt so far away. He closed his eyes and all he could see was the moon. A little white light, blurred and far away.

He opened his eyes again and there was nothing but the room’s darkness. He repeated it a few times. Darkness to darkness. Every time, the moon came an inch closer to him.

Slowly, his blinking reversed and he only opened his eyes for a moment at a time. He was still fully awake. The moon never needed real sleep to bother Sokka. 

Months ago, It was more of a guardian angel. It would sleep with him, watch over him. But it became restless after they escaped. It had to witness everything Sokka turned away from. Now it chattered frantically all night. It talked and talked of all it had seen. It never let go, it never gave up.

Suddenly, the moon exploded in his eyes. The light was brighter than anything, a fierce white. It spread like shooting stars across the immense blackness. All in an instant.

And in the moment it erupted, from its centre came a blue dragon. It grinned at him like it was about to tell a joke or simply enjoy devouring him. It’s body slithered behind him and at the end of the instantaneous vision, it’s face careened towards him, never stopping for a moment, never questioning its decision to come meet him.

Sokka gasped and sat upright in his bed. Hakoda turned in surprise and stared at him through the dark. Sokka panted for breath and slowly sat back down, turning away from him.

A dragon, the familiar of the Fire Nation, destroying the moon. Why did the spirits always have to be so symbolically on the nose? Though the vision made little sense. That had already happened. There was no point to adding salt onto the open wound.

His father shifted. Sokka felt a trembling arm come above him and grasp onto his shoulder. His breathing was as shaky as his hand. There was nothing to be said and nothing to be done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this slow burning, destiny fulfilling, not-even-knowing-each-other romance isn't enough just leave.


	17. Suki

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the action for the chapter. also suki has a breakdown and other things

##  Suki

Suki stood over the crumbled, sleeping body of two soldiers. She looked out over the roof’s edge, to the monorail and a glimpse of the buildings across the street. She noticed the two sniper rifles perfectly adjusted on the edge and bent down to take a look.

Through the scope, she saw the second floor window above the tea shop. Kai had sent her to this ‘Jasmine Dragon’ but there was no way to understand why. The window blinds were drawn but the large silhouette of a man kept walking back and forth. The sky was dark and clouded tonight.

Suki looked over to the other scope and peaked through. It was pointed at a narrow stairwell that went underground, below the front door. Interesting. Her attention was grabbed by little sounds coming from the two on the floor. They were still but one of them had an earpiece.

She reached over and took it from him, shoving it into her own ear.

“Sierra One, you wanna fucking respond?”

Suki wasn’t sure what to do. If the team knew each other too well, they would know her voice was wrong and she wouldn’t be able to fake it. She simply stayed quiet, staring through the scopes.

“Sierra Two, Sierra One. Respond, dammit.”

Another voice came through, “Hey, dumbass, you wanna go check? Something’s obviously wrong.”

Suki watched as a man appeared from the stairwell, peeking his head over the top and waving his arms at her. She waved back and then immediately cursed herself for doing so. She should have just stayed put.

“Uh, yeah, I think Sierra Two’s waving at me.”

“Well then go check, asshole! Their mics are down, obviously.”

A few minutes later, Suki was still pondering in indecision on how to proceed but now over a pile of three bodies. They needed to be drawn out for her to be able to proceed. She pressed hard on her earpiece and heard the static of her own mic.

A pause, “Help” and she let go.

“What was that?”

No response. Suki moved the rifle around to check if anyone was coming out of the building. There. She pointed it towards the side alley. Some people were keeping to the wrong side of the wall and directly in her line of sight. They were all holding pistols.

One shot.

“Alert, man down, man down. Somebody’s hijacked the snipers.”

Another voice, much deeper than the last, came through, “Radio silence, they’ve obviously got one of their own.”

One shot.

The last person in the alley sprinted to the other side, out over her firing line.

Suki jumped, a loud noise flashed past her. It was definitely a bullet but she hadn’t heard the shot. Turning back to the stairwell, a little bump of someone’s head and gun were peeking out from under the railing. She ducked, moved over to the other rifle and lined up her shot.

One shot. Miss. Sparks flew on the wall behind them. She ducked, expecting more bullets. They came but were obviously meant for her last position at the other rifle. When she snuck back over to take a look, a few of the agents from the stairs had sprinted across the street and were hiding behind the tall, metal foundations of the monorail. They would be in the building in no time. She crawled over to the door that went back down into the building. Once safely inside, she sprinted down the stairs to the last floor and snuck over to the front doors. She hid flat on the wall directly next to them. She waited for what felt like forever.

Then the door opened. They seemed in a hurry. She quietly stepped behind them. With a switchblade in one hand and brute force in the other, she stabbed one man in the back of the neck, high kicked the other man as he swivelled round and then stabbed the knife into him. She looked back out the glass doors to see if anyone was watching. Whoever was left under the stairs was staying safely tucked away.

After taking a pistol away from one of the agents, she quietly opened the door and hid by the same beam as they had. She looked up as the deep rumbling of a passing train began. Once it had left, she jumped up and climbed the beam as quickly as she could, perching herself on the track. From there, it was much easier to pick off the last few on the stairs and any in the side alley.

Suki rested the pistol on her own arm and aimed for the first agent. One shot and he was out. The other one ducked for a moment but then stupidly took their place. One more shot and the last one visible was down. She noticed someone kneeling at the edge of the alley wall. She shifted a few metres to her left and shot the last agent hiding behind the building.

Then, a loud bang shot through the air and a terrible sting came from her arm. Suki lost her balance. With her other arm, she grabbed desperately onto the track. Biting through the searing pain, she took her wounded arm and grabbed hold, free climbing with only her hands back behind the safe cover of the foundations. She pushed forcefully against the vertical beam with her feet and back, hovering over a three story drop with just sheer friction. She looked over at her arm. It was just a graze. She almost wished for a real wound just so the shock and adrenaline could take care of her instead of suffering to a glorified rugburn.

After a moment of mental preparation, she slowly walked vertically down the beam and dropped to the floor. Suki tipping her head from around the corner. Nothing. Nobody. But something above caught her eye. She looked at the second floor window where the light had been before. Now the blinds were open and a man was waving frantically at her. She checked to make sure nobody was sneaking up on her and began to concentrate on the big burly man in the window. Once he noticed that he had her attention, he began to point diagonally towards the bottom of the stairs where Suki could not see. The other hand made a big peace sign. No, the number two. Two more. 

Suki tucked herself behind the beam again and breathed heavily. One, Two, Three, Go. She lurched out and sprinted at top speed towards the tea shop. She leaped up and balanced on the guard railing and looked down to the last two guards, as promised. They both shot her looks of surprise but were even more surprised to be shot in the chest and face.

She jumped down and replaced her gun for one with more bullets. She looked up at the window and climbed the wall, sitting precariously on the window sill. The man grinned joyously and pushed the window up, graciously extending a hand to help her in. 

“Oh!” she said surprised at the oddly polite gesture, “Thank you.” She smiled back and daintily slipped through the window and settled on the floor.

“That was very impressive!”

“Thanks, again. And again, again for the tip.”

“It was my pleasure lady, uhm-”

“You can call me... Kyoshi.”

The old man’s eyes gleamed with wonder, “You wouldn’t happen to know what that name really means, would you?”

“I do,” she said back, “Do you?”

“Well, that’s for sure, with the way you fight. And yes, I’m very familiar with the great guardians of the Wall! A powerful sisterhood.”

“I mean, we’re more than just the girls. We’re the whole family.”

He grinned and nodded excitedly but slowly became more concerned, “I suppose you are here for Jet.”

“I- I don’t know who that is. I was sent here to find information. I’m guessing you somehow know of the Jasmine Dragon.”

“I own it! The tea shop downstairs and the basement,” he winked and touched his nose, “But that bit stays between us, eh? By the way, thank you for taking care of my little problem downstairs. They have been terrible for business.”

“What happened?”

“Ah, my friends in the basement got into some trouble and were tracked down. Unfortunately, I haven’t heard from them for a while.”

“I’m sorry,” said Suki softly, “I know how horrible that feeling is. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”

“I pray for them. As I pray for your family, my dear. I know you must be lost without them.”

“You know what happened?” she asked.

“Oh, yes,” he answered sadly, “I was there at the second wall. I saw what happened.”

“Wait, what were you doing at the wa-”

“My dear, I do not think we have as much time as you would wish.”

Suki crossed her arms, “Right.”

“If you were looking for somebody, I am sorry to say they are no longer here. But if you are looking for something else, I am sure there are a few things left downstairs! But come back tomorrow if you wish to speak more. Once you open the door, I will be calling the Army after ten minutes. I cannot keep claiming to be ignorant or they will grow greatly suspicious.”

“I understand. Thank you for this chance. If I can, I’ll come back.”

“Goodbye, young warrior. And good luck!”

She stuck her thumbs up as she was perched on the window and dropped down onto the pavement again and down the stairs. The door was already unlocked. Inside, There was a single light on above a large wrestling ring. The rest of the room was damp and dark.

She walked quietly around the room. There were tables and cushions on the floor. Board games, maps of the city, gymnastics mats with flecks of blood on them were scattered around. In the centre of the opposite wall lay a small row of tables with computers stacked up on them. 

The agents had placed plastic sheets over most of the floor and walls. Many evidence markers were placed around the scene. There seemed to be little left.

There was a central monitor all hooked up and ready. It seemed to have already been opened and unlocked. After a few minutes, she realised the computer must have been a decoy. The computer was completely empty of any relevant files.

She started to desperately go through all the contents on the desks. Time was running out. All the computers had been left in place but the hard drives, memory disks and any sort of storage device had been removed. Obviously, most things had been left behind as a trap. And in a few minutes it would start to work.

Suki started to rip down the plastic on the walls. The Fire Nation could only have seized the place less than a day ago. There had to be something they missed. Anything. Even a single paper. She was starting to lose her temper. Her breath was leaving her control.

This couldn’t be happening. Not a second time. She shook her head furiously at nobody but herself. She looked at the front door and rushed towards it. After climbing back up, she banged on Iroh’s window as she sat there.

The light turned back on. He walked over with sleepy eyes and opened the window.

“My dear, you-”

“No. There is nothing there. It’s empty. So tell me what I need to know.”

“I-,” he stroked his beard and pondered for a moment, then his eyes shifted to fierce determination, “What is it that you need to know?”

“Anything! Whatever you know about the Dai Li fire. Whoever the hell uses your crazy basement! I need to know what happened after the last day of the war and I need to know where my family is. I just need to know if they’ve all fucking died and I am all alone or if I still have a chance! I need to know how to get these fucking bastards out of my city or how to kill them all before they destroy it!”

She was on the floor, weeping. The man came close to her, placing a soft arm around her back.

“I once suffered a great loss as well. My son and my sister. We all made terrible mistakes and great sacrifices. In the end, I am all that is left of my family.”

“Then help me find mine,” she begged through her tears.

“Kai told me you were an honourable friend.”

She looked up at him in surprise, backing away for a moment. She smirked and punched him in the arm.

“Of  _ course _ , you know Kai.”

“Obviously! But, Lady Kyoshi, we do not have much time before I must call this in. I will tell you all I can,” he moved to look her directly in the face, holding both her shoulders, “The Freedom Fighters are a group of young warriors- much like yourself- that work inside the city. They were one of the many people who used my basement as a refuge from the Earth King and now the Firelords. Kai told me you would come here looking for something. He told me nothing else but that he vouched for you. The Fighters and their leader, Jet, attacked the Dai Li Headquarters last night. Now they have scattered to survive.”

“So what? Now I chase down Jet?”

“No, I fear he has little time left. He was discovered, hiding in the Air Temple. That reminds me: The Temple is always your friend. If you truly wish to find the Fighter, look for Longshot, his second in command. It would do you well to gain some allies. But in the meantime… I wonder if Toph could help you… She might know where her friends went from here. She had a few-”

“Wait who?”

He looked back at her, “Toph, mistress Toph Beifong. She lives in-”

“I know where she lives. And I know who she is.”

“Oh! Good, then speak to her. She might find you some leads on the Freedom Fighters. And as for your family, have you had the chance to check everywhere?”

“No. There was one place. I’m just afraid the Fire Nation has already found it. Do you know where they would take prisoners?”

“Well,” he grunted, “I never knew the Nation to take prisoners at all, but these Firelords are unpredictable and new. They might find uses for them. If anywhere, they would keep them on the fleet or back in the palace.”

“No, not the palace. The Military High Command.”

“I didn’t know they had one of those.”

Suki shrugged.

“Thank you, Iroh,” she hugged him. They both stood up and she ran over to the window as he picked up the landline phone off the coffee table. He began to dial the number as Suki ducked out the window one more time.

“Mr. Iroh, it’s actually Suki.”

“Ha, ha! Well Suki, next time, use the front door!”

She laughed and climbed out the window for the last time.

That night, as she ran back home leaping over rooftops, she wiped tears off her grin. It felt good to have help. It had always felt good. She finally felt like she was moving forward, even if it meant adding a thousand new steps to the process.


	18. Chapter 3: Katara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara and Sokka siblings are siblings sibling the siblinghood into siblings of very sibling siblings.
> 
> Siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a very long while. I've had a very long very bad writers block. As I'm pretty sure every one of you can imagine, this has been a very hard few months. But all is good. I do chapters in parts made of little POV "chapters". This is not a full chapter. I've forced myself to write because I actually care a lot about this piece, it was my first. So I just want to put something, anything out. Here's the first 3 or 4 parts of chapter 3 :) have fun

# Chapter 3

## Katara

Jet was not answering the phone. Nobody was.

Katara sat out in the park that surrounded her apartment building. It was cold and the wind gnashed at her face. She tucked her face into her massive parka, feeling the fur in her skin. It still smelled like that. Like that.

She looked out. Eyes scanning the park, waiting for the ringing to stop for the fiftieth time. The call went to voicemail, Her phone lay unlocked on her lap. There was no snow yet but the sky was grey and the trees were dying. This city was dying every day and it felt like the seasons would never come back around. At least that way, thought Katara, it’ll be a little more like home.

When she looked up, she could see her brother’s head moving in and out of view of the window as he fussed around the kitchen. He had not seen her yet.

That was when she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. There was a man in the trees, bordering the pavement. She turned her head rapidly, her eyes glaring even more ferociously. But then her neck tilted and she untucked herself from her coat, revealing her face.

The man was so sombre. He took his time to walk over to her. There was no intensity in anything but his eyes. His eyes were something else.

He stopped a few steps away from the bench where she sat.

“Hey, Longshot.”

He took that as an invitation and sat down next to her. Katara stared at him for a bit then joined him in glaring down the rest of the ark and buildings and streets that lay in front of them.

“Longshot,” she spoke softly, “Where’s Jet?”

Longshot turned to look at her. That veil of intensity dropped with his gaze and he stared at nothing with so much tiredness. 

He reached into his pocket and took out a phone. He showed it to her laying in his palm. The screen switched itself on. The lock screen was distorted by the pool of red blood that was dried onto it.

But it was thin enough to see through. There was a pack of notifications:

Missed Calls (9) K<3.

“Oh, Longshot,” said Katara with so much sadness. She could tell he wasn’t able to bear such an honest reaction.

“Longshot, Where is he now?”

He looked at her and shook his head sadly. His shoulders shrugged so lightly.

“Then how did you get that?”

She stared him right in the eyes. Pain. Healing. Abduction.

“Where the hell did you find a doctor?”

Something twinkled in his iris and the secret was unlocked. He looked into her and she looked back.

“But he’s gone now. They found him?”

The Dragon is gone. Jet is gone. Everything is gone.

“So they really did get to the teashop. Poor Iroh, I hope he’s okay. But what about Jet? Where did they take him?”

Katara could tell it wasn’t worth it. Longshot didn’t know because he wasn’t there. Somehow they had taken him from that Monastery downtown to. She had always found them to be a little strange, all dressed the same, all shaved and tattooed. But she remembered from when they first arrived in Ba Sing Se that the monks and Jet had been quite close.

She remembered that night in the shadows. Creeping into the cliffside gutters of the city, climbing the rocks and splashing through the waters. There was a man waiting at the end of the tunnels wearing those sheets. She later recognised them again when a group of monks walked down the mainstreet where she and Sokka went for groceries one day.

“So. They’ve got Iroh, they’ve got the monks. They’ve split us up, we don’t know where anyone is.”

This isn’t going well.

“No it isn’t. Jet was an idiot but he’s never been so wrong like the other night.”

Longshot signalled his confusion.

“That night, he told me. ‘The war’s never over ‘till we win’.” Longshot smiled, “He forgot it also ends if everyone’s dead.”

Jet doesn’t even know how to spell ‘dead’.

Katara laughed at that face, “Yeah, that’s for sure. So that’s why you haven’t stopped looking. It’s been three days. You missed your weekend.”

Can’t stop.

“You can. You’re gonna have to eventually. It’ll only slow you down, staying up stressing over him.”

Useless alone.

“You or him?”

“Hey, Longshot.” Sokka’s voice broke the cold air as he walked over, crunching on leaves and grass.

“Sokka.”

“You didn’t invite me?”

“I didn’t even know he was coming.”

“Oh! To what do we owe the visit then?”

“Longshot can’t find Jet,” Katara summarised. She looked down at the phone in the boy’s hands, “And it looks like the Fighters have taken heavy losses in the networking side of things.”

Sokka paused, stroking his chin, “Ah, a little ‘Divide and conquer’?”

“Looks like it.”

“So what, you’re here to make us look for him?”

“Sokka!” hissed Katara furiously.

Friends. Longshot stared intently into Sokka’s eyes.

“Ye-yeah. Of course, kiddo. We’re always here for you. I just mean- well, Jet isn’t good at taking care of himself. In fact, he’s pretty good at the opposite.”

Longshot looked at his feat. Oh, how he knew.

“They’ve split us up. I don’t think we’re out of work but we should probably stay away from Jet for a while. You should too.”

“Sokka, you’re talking crazy. If Jet is alive then we have to find him. Now.”

“Katara, what are we supposed to do? Fall right into their trap? They’re obviously gonna use him as bait even if he’s-”

“Shut your mouth, dick. Longshot, we-”

The siblings looked out around the park and turned around and around. Longshot was nowhere to be seen. One moment at Katara’s side and another nowhere. The boy was even quieter than he looked.

“Nice going.”

“How is this my fault?” argued Sokka, “He knows he can’t ask this from us after the stunt he and Jet pulled!”

“And why not?” shouted Katara into her brother’s face, “He needed our help, Sokka. He has nobody, everyone has gone underground and we’re free!”

“Yeah, and why do you think everybody went into hiding?”

“Because they’re a bunch of pussies?”

“Because they’re not clinically insane!” screamed Sokka.

Katara growled loudly and stormed off in a rage. Sokka followed behind up back to the flat. The two of them stood in stubborn silence through the elevator ride.

There was a ping and they walked out. Katara marched for the door with such force that she barely needed a key to barrel down the door.

“The rest of these idiotic idealists don’t bend water and jump off trains.”

“Yeah, that’s what I meant by ‘clinically insane’. We’re the only two with voices in our head and a pathological obsession for moral righteousness.”

Katara scoffed in disbelief and swivelled around. They both stood inches away from each other in the middle of the doorway.

“Never in my life have I heard you speak so- Immaturely!- About something so sacred. You always treat it like it deserves to be treated.”

“Don’t lecture me about how my own destiny should be treated! I know better than you or anybody could ever know! And newsflash, dick: I can only speak maturely about something if I’m alive! And running after some vigilante pyromaniac with a delusions of grandeur isn’t going to help that situation. Especially if he’s already dead!”

Katara backed off her tiptoes and crossed her arms, glaring into him.

“Longshot would have come for us if we were the ones in trouble. And what’s so grandiose about Jet’s ideas anyway?”

“Spirits, fucking take me now. You always take his side just to piss me off,” Sokka pushed past and stood hesitantly at the sight of a very surprised and very confused Hakoda watching them from the hallway.

Katara turned and saw him as well but didn’t seem to care anymore. 

“Well? What do you expect? He’s brave, idiotic, has no impulse control and if anybody let him off his leash for five minutes he could probably bring the whole Fire Nation crumbling to his feet.”

“More like right on top of him,” scoffed Sokka, ignoring her and awkwardly breaking eye contact from his father to jump over the couch and turn on the tv.

“If it were us. He. Would. Come.”

“Bullshit,” laughed Sokka, “He’d be too shitfaced to keep up and when he heard that we were dead and rotting, he’d say ‘aw! damn. Too bad!’” He made sure to make Jet sound extra stupid.

“Well, if not him then his friends. They would.”

“Good! Then I’ll stick around for them and not get myself killed for another idiot who couldn’t even watch his own ass!” Yelled Sokka humorously.

“One week of planning,” he muttered in a shallow laugh.

“Well, I don’t know about you but I am absolutely sure that the Painted Lady didn’t follow me all the way from the Fire Nation to watch me sit on my ass and watch tv to deal with that fact that I’m too pussy to take care of the only people I have left in my life.” Sokka turned and looked extremely displeased with her.

“And what’s more-”

“Don’t.” warned Sokka knowingly.

“I know for a very solid fact that Tui didn’t bless you to watch you sit on the sidelines of the biggest fight in all of history. And neither did Yue!”

Sokka shot up and stuck a pointed finger in her face.

“I just told you: don’t tell me what the hell to do with my own spirit. Don’t waltz around here like listening to campfire stories is anything close to what I’ve experienced for that spirit’s over-emotional, sorry ass.”

Katara laughed at him, “And where the hell did you learn half the shit you know about that little voice in your head? The library?” The two of them shook their heads as they turned away from each other, “Dumbass,” muttered Katara.

“Yeah right! I’m the dumbass!”

“You would know, dumbass!”

“And don’t you even think of sneaking off to find that asshole without me!”

Katara glared at him. Nothing was going to push her to do that, but she knew it was only a matter of time before she could trick him into getting off _his_ sorry ass and-

Katara snorted and stopped in her tracks as she almost made her way out the room.

“Oh!”

“What? Did you finally realise what an idiot you are?”

“Not me,” she giggled, “I’m not the idiot who’s jealous.”

Sokka turned his head in a dramatically slow manner, closing in on Katara’s sly smile. Their siblinghood had always been strange. Normally, that is the very definition of being a sibling. But ever since it all ended and all this had begun, things had gotten strange in ways that were inexplicable to the rational mind. Katara wasn’t sure where half the oddities of their relationship originated from but she knew one thing: if they were fighting, and it felt as if there was no reason for it, think ‘Jet’.

Ever since that first night of finding Jet and his merry band of delinquents on the jagged peaks of the Southern Air Temples, the fighting had begun. Katara and Sokka always fought, but the fighting was always clear. There was, in fact, no real reason for arguing because both knew each other's motives, ideas and perspectives like the back of their own hands. But whenever it felt like a hopeless argument because of lack of understanding, Jet always seemed to be watching in the background somewhere. Staying quiet until he could make his entrance.

Katara knew Jet wasn’t going to involve himself now. The moment his stupidity infected a space like poisonous gas, she was reminded of one thing: You’re not fighting with Sokka, you and Sokka are fighting with Jet. 

Jet would have preferred ‘over’ not ‘with’ but what Jet didn’t know was just one other thing in a million.

“C’mon loverboy. Don’t lie to me now! You’re jealous because he was all over me last week and he wouldn’t pay attention to you until I rejected him.” Katara got cocky, when she was cocky she had a tendency to sound awkwardly ridiculous but it never mattered to her since she knew she was winning.

Katara watched Sokka’s mind implode, “Oh, you fucking- how- what is that even supposed to mean, I- First of all!”

“Oh, do tell.”

“Oh, I fucking will! First of all, he only got off you because I made him!”

“Only further proving my point.”

“And second of all, not that it matters, but he could not take his eyes off me all night.”

Katara snorted loudly, “That I will gladly give to you, like shame in a bottle.”

“Shut up. And third, what the fuck do I care what that asshole thinks of me?”

“Obviously a lot since you’re making such a fuss of ensuring he dies of some surely illegal form of torture!”

“They’re all illegal, dumbass.”

“Not if you just won a world war.”

“Exactly-”

“Shut up. Sokka? Listen to me,” she rushed over to the couch before he could protest, “I know he’s an idiot and a psycho and he was a total shitbag to us the entire trip over here but he’s important. You know this is bigger than you. Than me. Than Longshot. This is about getting back our fucking birthright. Finally. This is about our dreams. Remember?”

He stared at her, searching in her eyes, “Yeah.”

“Remember the first night on the boat. you told me-”

“I know.”

“Then we have to do this.”

Sokka shook his head, “No, Katara. This isn't about him. We have to rebuild what we lost. And maybe later that involves getting Jet back but for now, it means other things.”

“So are either two of you,” interrupted Hakoda, watching them from the doorway, “Gonna open up and tell me what the heck is going on in my house?”

The two of them look at their father. He’s not gonna like this one, thought Katara, just like the first time Sokka took me hunting. Except this time for people. She turned to Sokka in defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. I noticed about 10 people. SUBSCRIBED. to this???? thank you very much it means a lot. Please comment because I love love love comments. I love y'all. <3


	19. Toph

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toph and Suki meet, have a little chat. There's a lot of punching.

## Toph

The issue with perfection is that it never ends. There is nothing that stops it. Perfection never changes or grows or moves on. It simply is.

So when Toph lived perfectly, it felt like she was dead. But now, every other day felt like her heart was exploding into action once again. Little signs of life. No more day after day after day. First kings, then liars and now a gunpowder plot. The others were just empty dates on a calendar. These were unforgettable. The beginning of the grand story that she would tell her friends when she was old and tired.

The entire weekend had come and gone so it had been a while without incident. Toph was itching for a reset and felt it was coming soon. But, for now, it was still just yoga classes and lunch.

Toph made her way out the door, clutching her sports bag and little walking stick. Her feat pitter pattered on the sidewalk out to the driveway. She could hear the low hum of the car as it was sitting there at the ready. 

Siyu, the housekeeper, walked behind Toph, informing her of the rest of her day (as if she were ignorant of the fact that every single week were painfully the same). 

“Now, you’ll be back by 2:30 but Mom says she wants to have a little something for lunch together after class, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, get on in and I’ll see you later, hun.”

Toph froze a few feet from the car. Siyu halted awkwardly in response but went to open the door for her. 

Liar.

“Who’s driving the car?”

“What?” laughed Siyu in a nervous tone.

“The driver. I- I mean. Never mind.”

“No- oh, dear, I completely forgot to tell you! Li Jie’s on sick leave. He needs some time to rest. Suki’s gonna be taking over for now,” she opened the door and peaked in, “Hi, Suki!”

The lady in the front seat. She turned and looked out the open door to the two.

“Morning, Siyu. Mistress Toph! Ready for yoga?”

Toph could not move. Yoga was probably the best place to go right now with the horrible tense feeling Toph had throughout her whole body.

Siyu noticed almost immediately, “Oh, honey, don’t worry! Li Jie’s gonna be fine,” she ducked down nearer to Toph and whispered, “And don’t feel weird about Suki. I’d never hire anyone without doing a full check beforehand. She’s A-okay!”

Toph felt like she was about to fall over. She was not getting in that car. But she had to. That lady. She was lying. She was lying. She was lying. That little heart beat of hers was everywhere. Even over the car’s quiet but disruptive engine, Toph could sense the blood rushing through her deceptions.

And here it was. The weekend was truly over. The story had begun. Game. Set. Match.

So Toph got in. She sat silently, head bowed low. The lady asked her little questions here and there, Toph regurgitated the answers. Her brain power was fighting on another front. She concentrated as hard as she could. Feel your ground below you. Feel the floor and the seats and the motor and the battery and the wheels spinning on and on. Now, dial it back. Focus. The heartbeat. The breathing. The weight in the seat and its shape in the soundwaves.

It was her. The Lying Lady. The Lady in Security. The Lady Bian Xiang. 

It had to be. Toph couldn’t tell for sure. The voice was different, chipper. But it was a facade. Happy dipped in politeness to sugarcoat another lie. The other night, it didn’t matter what her name was. It didn’t matter who or what she was. Her voice was all she brought to the party. Today, it was all about someone else. The driver, the caretaker.

They had been driving for at least ten minutes without a word. The ride wouldn’t be too long today, the class was still within the Upper Ring but nearer the other side. 

“You know,” said Toph, matter of factly, “You’re not as smart as you think you are-”

Spike.

“-If you thought you could lie to me.”

The car stopped.

They waited in silence.

The car kept going.

It turned the corner. The sun must have been peeking through the clouds; for a moment Toph could feel the softness of its light on her eyes and nose.

“I’m just doing what I gotta do, kid.”

Toph scoffed, “You’re gonna be a terrible valet.”

“I thought I was your babysitter,” she sneered.

“Quit it, Lady. You’re my hostage now, remember?”

“So that’s how we’re gonna play it?” she sounded almost disappointed, “We’re here.”

The car came to a rough halt as it swerved into a parking spot.

“And you didn’t even set off the airbags!”

Suki said nothing and got out. Toph took off her seat belt and slid over to the left side of the car. Suki opened the door for her. Toph stood outside the car and looked forward. She fondled her pocket and whipped out her cane as quickly as she could, edging it closer to the Lady. She stepped back in surprise and Toph drew a little smirk.

“I’m watching you,” she swore, tapping the metal tip on the floor ahead of Suki.

“Yes, Ma’am,” she replied half-heartedly. 

They walked together side by side.

Toph started as her cane hit something soft. Dirt.

It was so quiet. She hadn’t even realised how quiet. But it was a certain type, where everything just seemed far off. The birds were high up, the cars were distant and the trees were whispering.

“Where- where are we?” Toph sounded angry. It was that anger reserved for when she was scared.

“It’s a park. Kuei Garden. Up in the north.”

“What the hell are we doing here? We should be at my class. Take me right now!”

“I don’t want to take you to a class that you don’t want to go to,” Toph could feel her staring into her, “I want to talk to you about things I know will interest you. Something you actually care about. So I’ve heard, anyway.”

Toph gritted her teeth and struck out her fist into Suki’s gut. She felt her torso double over, engulfing her hand.

“You asshole! All you had to do was say something! I have no idea where I am. You can at least stop being a dick for one minute and keep me informed.”

“I-”

“I don’t pay you to fuck with me. I pay you to drive and shut up!”

“Sorry, Toph.”

“ _Mistress_.”

“No, I’m not doing that when we’re in private.”

“Well, then drive me home so I can get you fired.”

“After we talk.”

Toph did not answer. She deserved more than this and she deserved her choice.

“It’s a nice park,” said Suki, softly.

“I know.” It was the first time Suki had not lied.

The pair walked slowly around the paths. They passed the ponds and the weeping willows. Toph felt the light dim even further as they walked into the wooden pavilion.

They sat on a little bench.

“What are we supposed to be talking about?”

“Shit!” muttered Suki. She fumbled for something. A moment later, “Hi, this is Suki, I’m Toph’s new helper, I’m covering for Li Jie for a while. I just wanted to call to tell you Toph’s not gonna be able to come today… yeah… yeah… No and listen: I know it’s so last minute, sorry about that. That’s okay! I’ll tell her you said ‘hi’. No I’ll just tell Siyu for you, I don’t want to give you more hassle. M’kay, bye now!”

Toph couldn’t help but smile a bit. 

“Anyway,” said Suki, tucking her phone away, “You know, it’s funny. I’m supposed to be your help but really I need you to be mine.”

“How can I help you?”

“Well, for starters, you can tell me how you saw me across the room the other day in the Palace.”

Toph smirked, “I can always see a liar.”

“Right. Well, I think that might be why I was sent to see you.”

“Sent?”

“Oh, yeah. You think I wanna be stuck up here with all you pompous bastards? A guy at a tea shop-”

“The Jasmine Dragon, yeah.”

“Oh,” Suki laughed, “Of course you know. Well, your friend sent me. Uhm, the old guy, Iroh.”

Toph looked up at her, “If Iroh told me to do anything, I’d probably do it. What does he want?”

“Oh! Well, information. Unsurprising, I bet, but that’s it. I need to know about the people who go there. In that basement.”

“The Freedom Fighters.”

“Iroh, said that too. And a name: Jet. Is that a title or do they have a group? A calling card?”

“The Dragon. It’s the centre of everything. There is no group. No secret club. It’s just a bunch of people. I mean, yeah, there are groups, but they all mix. They all sort of join up at the Dragon.”

“And do what? What’s the point?”

Toph shook her head, “You don’t get it. I already said: it’s _not_ a club. Sometimes people are there, sometimes not. Sometimes people hang out, sometimes they plan. It’s just a place. A home away from home. Or sometimes a permanent one.”

“So like… No I guess there’s no word for whatever that is.”

“There is: The Jasmine Dragon. That’s what it’s called. It isn’t the same without the people.”

“You said people plan? Is that those Freedom Fighters?”

“They’re one of the groups. The biggest. Most of the gear and furniture they brought it in themselves. If you're looking for organizations they’re definitely the most organized. Although, I guess that depends on what you mean.”

“When the war ended, was there anyone new?”

“Are you kidding? A billion newbies flooded through there. Some for a day. I think a few of them joined Jet. The rest, I don’t know. You really should talk to him if the Freedom Fighters are who you want.”

“Jet’s gone. Iroh told me he’s in prison. And he told me you would know where to find others.”

“Lady, I don’t go with them. I’m on my own. I just went to the Jasmine Dragon to have some peace and quiet. It was a place where nobody got hurt. Even me and I did wrestling there.”

“I saw the ring- wait, wrestling?”

“I may not be able to see but I’m pretty good with my hands. And my ears.”

“Huh.”

There was a moment. Toph thought and Suki thought. The birds didn’t stop going off in the distance. The water was quiet.

“You went to the basement?” asked Toph.

“The other night. It’s completely empty. The cops got there first.”

“I know. Last time I went Iroh told me not to come back. The place was crawling with Fire Nation people. So Iroh’s alright?”

“Oh, he’s fine. As of friday anyway.” Suki sounded sad. Toph couldn’t guess why. It was obvious she didn’t even know him.

“So you’re looking for Jet and his friends.”

“I guess so.”

“You guess so? What does that mean?”

Suki sighed. Toph could hear her shifting, slumping further into the bench, “Because I have no idea what all this with the tea shop is. It's insane that it existed and we never found out but, to be honest, I don’t really care. I wanted information and a friend of mine gave me the Dragon as a lead. And now, unless you have even a single name or place to give me, I’m back to square one for like, the fourth time.”

“Who is ‘we’? Who are _you_?” Toph was getting agitated. This woman was not good at explaining.

“I come from the Agrarian Ring. My… friends were split up or killed when the wall fell. I’m looking for them but they all went underground.”

“Why?”

“Because we weren’t exactly peaceful farmers. We stood our ground and we posed a threat. After your father’s mines, we were the first thing besides a massive wall that actually slowed them down.”

“You’re telling me a bunch of farmers stopped drones and fighter jets?”

“I’m telling you we slaughtered them. For a while, anyway. Eventually, they were just picking us off for sport. That’s when the military decided to get off it’s ass.”

“I’m guessing you’re not a big fan of them,” said Toph, sarcastically.

“Pretty much the only thing we had in common with the army was that we lived in the same part of the world. That and a fuckload of guns. We may all be from Ba Sing Se, but saying the south is like the north is like saying the Nation is like the Nomads. It just doesn’t add up.”

Toph sat in her words. This woman had fought a war. She had died for her. Maybe her heart kept beating with every lie she told- maybe that was all that kept her going- but that little something in her voice spoke of things that she couldn’t say out loud. How do you tell someone you died weeks ago? How do you tell someone you're looking to get your soul back?

“But who are you? What are you? Are you Suki? I’m guessing you’re not Bian Xiang.”

“My name actually is Suki. I’m not telling you a lot else. The fact that you were messing with the Freedom Fighters is intriguing… but you're still just some little rich girl. That and you’re obviously not very good at protecting your friends.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toph retorted loudly.

“You just exposed them all to me. A total stranger. You didn’t even try and find out who I was before spilling-”

“Oh, what,” she interrupted, “You seriously think I’m that dumb? For your information, both of us were on the same side from day one. You and I were the only ones who managed to piss off both my parents and the king. Deal with it.”

Suki laughed loudly.

“And second,” followed Toph, “I told you: I know when you lie. And you were lying that night. And you’re not lying now. You’re holding secrets but you’re not lying. Whoever you are, you’re the enemy of the enemy.”

“But why talk with me anyway?”

“Well, first off,” Toph thought for a moment, “you’re my ride home,” she said sheepishly, “But also, I’m in.”

“You’re… ‘in’?”

“Yeah. Whatever this is. Whoever it pisses off. Whoever it fucks with. I wanna burn it with you.” She turned and faced into Suki, “You called me a rich girl. I wanna fuck that up so bad.”

Suki giggled in a terrifying way.

“Metal,” she said, “But no.”

“What?” raged Toph.

“No. You’re still Little Miss Priss. You wrestle and shout but you're still on the inside. You get to burn shit later. For now, you’re on recon and infiltration.”

Toph slumped down and folded her arms, “I am the least subtle or prissy girl in this whole town.”

“You have your own chauffeur,” smeared Suki, “And if you wanna fight so damn bad, you’ll be honest with yourself: you may hate it, but you are perfectly capable for the job.”

Toph said nothing. Suki nudged her, “C’mon! Lose small to win big.”

Lose big to win bigger. What the fuck kind of cost was that?

If this ended up not being worth it, Toph wasn’t sure what she’d do. But the world was growing to be much, much bigger than herself.

“So, where do we start?”

“Where do we start,” repeated Suki quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly the way I wrote Toph in the first and second chapter was totally embarrassing. I did five minutes of basic research into writing a blind character and I think even the subtle little changes improve her 1000 times. Once I really get into her and have her alone, I'm sure you'll see improvement as well :)


	20. Aang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little weird. I recommend anyone with suicide issues to skip this one out. It is absolutely and in no way meant to be read like that but it might be... uncomfortable for some, especially if you have bad memories. 
> 
> And with those with assault triggers. Again, nothing happens and nobody even gets hurt. But just in case <3

## Aang

Where do I even start? 

An hour ago, Aang had been staring at the ceiling from his bed, lost as ever. He couldn’t get it out of his head for days. Something had to change. So far, all he had done was do what he always did. Although, since what he always did was heal, he was feeling a bit conflicted about the guilt Yangchen bestowed on him so honorably. 

Now, he was at the top of some apartment building. It was only a few blocks from the Monastery. He was pacing back and forth, just a few feet from the edge. There was too much going on. The last hour had passed but not with him in it.

It began with the decision to follow Yangchen’s advice. Once he did that, it was only a matter of figuring out how.

How? How was the Avatar a way to save people? How was a storm not just another problem? But maybe it didn’t have to be. Maybe she was right: it could be negotiated with.

The spirit was there and Aang had suspected it was listening. It had decided to remain very inactive. But he thought long and hard on it. 

That night had been unforgettable. The clouds and the sheer amount of noise coming from the skies and the winds. It was enough to rip apart your head. The walls shook and the gardens were overturned, water all over the pathways and the plants and trees ruined.

Aang though, was fast asleep. He dreamt with the wind and the darkness but he was definitely deeply asleep. 

It was the last night before the end. And the first night before the beginning. 

The wall stood strong for one more night, besting the storm. The ships were breaking the high waves, making slow pace to the cliffs of the city. The planes flew so high above the clouds, they couldn’t even be heard. The mines and the outer fields burned furiously as the tanks and armies marched for the border. 

The lights were out. The workers at the powerplants worked desperately to turn everything back on. The streets were dark and the towers were silently blind. There was nothing to do but bear out the storm.

But Aang was exempt of it all. In his dream, the grey and black clouds engulfed him like they were trying to consume him. Drain him. But the more they took, the more at peace he felt. Calm and free. Ready to rest.

But then the storm erupted. The lightning crashed and the flashes broke the peace. Beyond the storm, where the flashes struck, was a beast. A monster in the nightmare. 

The worst was yet to come.

The blue light illuminated the tempest and the silhouette of the enormous watcher was revealed. It had a middle eye, like a diamond. Ribs with intricate marks all over. It’s body was impossible and indescribable. It had tendrils that never ceased to move and snap around. 

It came closer.

_ Ma Raava hum. _

It’s airy voice boomed over the winds.

_ Ke timi baliyo chau? _

Aang understood but he was unsure. That answered the question itself. But the creature was unyielding. Light exploded all around him as he felt his body shift in state, like some extreme and instant change was transforming him. It felt like losing a limb. Too sudden, too much, not right.

_ Yo gariyo, Avatar. _

And so it was. Complete and irreversible. The deal was struck without the terms. 

_ Are you strong, Avatar? _

He had to be. Now it was time to write the terms. Or at least discover them. So there he was, inching closer to witness what lay over the edge of the roof. 

The first night hadn’t been bad. What followed was.

There was a kitchen near the Monastery. It was open most days. The Monks, although very busy with their own work, joined forces with the kitchen from time to time, taking care of any children left there for the day, serving food, convincing people to just try the Monastery for a night or two.

Not many people were open to getting tangled in with religion. Ba Sing Se and the rest of the Earth Kingdom did not have the best history with the separation of church and state, to put it kindly.

But in the south, in the Outer Ring, many did not have the luxury of idealism and politics. And many were ready to fight off a few bald monks if anything got out of their comfort zone. 

Aang had learned of the paranoia surrounding his people very early on. And was regularly reminded of it again and again, sometimes not from the least fortunate or those with a right to be scared.

Two nights after the storm, Aang had been walking to the kitchen. He made his sleepy way down the back alley with his satchel and not much else.

It was growing quite dark and the clouds hung heavy and low in the sky, reflecting off whatever lights were left in the dimming city.

The backstreet turned a bit. Aang followed it. Farther down the street was a car. It was filled with at least seven men. A few were outside, one was on top of the car, the others smoking inside. The music shook the ground more than the engine.

Something shifted suddenly inside him. Something still human. His gut tensed on its own accord. He didn’t stop walking. Somehow, leaving now almost felt more dangerous than walking down this alley.

He stepped quickly, staring at the floor down the end of the street. He could already feel them looking at him, whispering and jeering.

They spoke a dialect Aang hadn’t heard before. There were at least three different ones in Ba Sing Se alone but the similarities were undeniable, once you left the agrarian lands and went far out of the capital kingdom, the local tongue got very personal. Everyone could communicate but there was something else special to share between neighbours.

And something to hide from outsiders.

And not everyone liked the Nomads. Not everyone liked the way they looked or how they dressed. Not everyone liked their little slippers they wore that padded on the pavement, or their satchels made of hemp. Or their morning and evening prayers. Or the fact that they were everywhere. 

People from a fixed home didn’t understand the idea of making a home anywhere, or taking your home with you. They only knew the motherland. It was where their soul went to rest when the sun set. 

For Aang, his people were forever alive, across the entire globe. It was always morning somewhere. It was always prayer time somewhere. People didn’t like how close they were to the enemy. 

And others just didn’t like the idea of pacifism when their whole life was defined and redefined by violence and chaos.

So he patted softly by and the murmuring got louder.

He passed the car and could hear a couple of the men getting up from the car to walk behind him.

“Eh!” one shouted, “Xiao heshang, you hear me? I’m talking to you!”

“Don’t be rude, little monk!” The others laughed at that name. Aang guessed it was silly enough when translated directly, “My friend is tryna talk to you. We’re just tryna talk!”

Aang’s entire body was spinning out of control on the inside. Something bad was going to happen and whatever it was he was definitely going to lose. 

They kept shouting and Aang kept walking. He never sped up. He never looked back. 

But then he heard one of them run after him. Aang sprung from his place like there was nothing left in life to do but this very movement. He burst out of his timid little walk but didn’t get far.

The man was close behind when he tripped. He snagged on his tunic and fell directly towards the floor faster than he could even process.

He hit the floor... and then the sound.

The noise. 

Just a clap. A clap of thunder. Directly at the same moment that everything went white. It was in his eardrums and in his retinas. The lightning.

But not just the lightning but the wind. The wind breaking sound. Bursting outwards in a single instant. The electricity appearing from nowhere to everywhere without warning.

Some time later, Aang was slumped next to the back door of the kitchen. He woke up, his tunic was a muddy mess, but his knees and hands had no scratches from the fall. His face was fine, his body didn’t hurt.

But the noise in his ear didn’t leave for a while. He was so disoriented. He could barely concentrate for the rest of the night and was not much help to the cooks. Someone walked him home. Someone put him to bed. Someone opened the infirmary for him the next day.

And so there he was, yet again, seconds away from hitting the floor. The only difference was this time, Aang had a choice.

In the movies, there was always the first time where the hero used his powers, then another where he tried and failed painfully and then once more for the climax.

Aang didn’t want to slam himself into the concrete five times unsuccessfully but he also didn’t want to jump off a building too successfully, so to speak. 

He looked over the edge.

His eyes widened rapidly as he felt something. A tingle. Something odd like a shock.

There was something attractive here.

It had to be. If not, then what? There was no other way. Aang wasn’t just going to waltz around alleyways, hoping to get attacked again.

And there was no attraction that time. Here, up in the windy altitudes, there was a shock. A spark.

Aang took the step. And then another. And then he took the air.


End file.
